Broken Souls
by DarkDaisies
Summary: Will their tumultuous pasts ever set them free? Or will a lingering bit of little known Dark Magic tear them asunder? EWE, rated M for sexual situations, violence
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Jon Snow...er uhm...**

Prologue

_"Crucio!" She felt her body writhe, heard the gasps of torment escape through her bloodied lips, but still she refused to yield. The crazed brunette danced across the cool marble floors, determined to inflict as much damage as possible on her prey. Again and again she cursed the girl, a perverse sense of enjoyment coursing through her cold blood. Her gaze flickered to her nephew, his face contorted in…could it possibly be? Pain? Sympathy? Regret? For a Mudblood? Oh, this would never do._

_She allowed her prisoner a moment of reprieve, her large dark eyes narrowing, catching the furtive glances between her nephew and her prey. She raised her wand, her long dark hair billowing around her shoulders, prepared to continue, when her sister touched her arm lightly._

_"Bellatrix. Please."_

_"You dare to question me?! You dare to interfere with the wishes of The Dark Lord?" Bellatrix wielded her wand, thrusting it against her sister's throat._

_"Never. I ask only please, to excuse my son. He's young. He's soft. He doesn't have the constitution for such things. Please? For me, Bella." The whispered words had their desired effect._

_Bellatrix Lestrange lowered her wand, her lips pressed tightly together. She stalked toward her nephew, the heels of her stiletto boots clipping sharply across the marble. He refused to meet her gaze. He only had eyes for the Mudblood, squirming on the drawing room floor of Malfoy Manor. She glared into his red-rimmed eyes, noting the tremor in his demeanor with suspicion and disgust._

_"Draco. A Mudblood? Really? I thought better of you than that." She hissed into his ear, enjoying the way he inadvertently flinched away from her._

_"She's nothing." His voice wavered. "Just a dirty little Mudblood." His words were filled with venom, yet his empathetic eyes never left her._

_"You lie." She practically spit in his face, spinning with a flourish toward her sister. "Take him." Bellatrix pointed at her nephew, her shrewd eyes squinting at her nephew's despondence. "Get this filth from me!" She kicked the Mudblood in the side, laughing when the semi-conscious groans reached her ears._

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The screams reverberated in her skull. She clutched her chest, realising they were coming from her own mouth. She could still see the large eyes, disheveled hair and oh, that voice, in her mind's eye. The high, maniacal laughter, stinging like salt in a wound, as pain so unearthly pierced her core. It was always the same. And it always ended with the laughter. The delighted, devilish laughter was her undoing. The laughter drove her from the last vestiges of sleep, gasping, clutching her chest, pushing her damp hair off her forehead. It echoed inside her skull in such a way, she didn't think it would ever stop. She relived every moment of her torture, every night without reprieve. She couldn't remember the last time she actually slept through the night. Maybe it was when she was running with Harry and Ron, but even then, she slept only fitfully.

They kept saying it would get better with time. It would get easier. She didn't believe them, not anymore. If anything, they were getting worse, now that she was alone. It didn't take long for Ron to decide it wasn't something he could manage. He wanted someone to support him, to understand his pain, but honestly, he wasn't capable of understand hers. Yes, yes she's aware he lost one of his brothers. She would never make light of that. It was a horrific experience for all of them, yet part of her was angry. So very angry.

"Just..just get over it already! You don't see me screaming in MY sleep 'bout Fred now do ya?" Ron was throwing random articles of clothing in a ratty bag, his unruly red hair flopping into his dark blue eyes, while ranting and raving at her.

"It's not something I can control, Ron! It just happens. It's not like I spend all my time thinking about it!"

That morning had been particularly difficult. The moment she fell asleep, it was as if she was going back in time; laying there on the cold floor, unfamiliar, yet also familiar faces glaring down at her, dark eyes dancing with delight, long dark, disheveled hair bouncing. That familiar, decidedly masculine voice, of all things, screaming 'I'm sorry' as he's dragged away.

Ron had stopped comforting her months ago. He slept in the guest room as it was, but he used to climb into her bed and hold her until the sobbing abated. It wasn't particularly comforting but it was something. She couldn't remember the last time he had done such a thing.

"Look. You're not the only one who's had a rough go of it k? My brother died. My other brother lost an ear. Sirius, Lupin, Tonks…come on. And here you are, all alive and stuff, screaming in your sleep. You don't see Harry doing that now do ya? And he was face to face with…with…"

"Voldemort." She interjected lazily.

"I KNOW HIS NAME!" Ron bellowed, his freckled face red with embarrassment or anger, she couldn't be sure. She shrugged, angering her further. "Listen, I'm just gonna go to Harry and Ginny's for a bit. I need to…" he trailed off, waiting for her to explode in anger. The moment didn't come.

"I think that's a good idea. It's an even better idea, if you just stay there, until you find another place to live." She wrapped her thin arms around herself, twirling the end of a golden brown curl around her finger.

"Oi! Hermione! What are you saying?!" Ron tried to look indignant, which was very difficult when the relief was obvious in his eyes, while his cheeks were decidedly red.

"You've already said it." She turned away from him, walking passed him slowly, making sure to avoid contact, before reaching her bedroom door and closing it, without a backward glance. She didn't even flinch when Ron slammed the door.

That was six months ago. She was still waiting for that twinge of regret, but it never came.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: If I was JK...would I be writing fanfic?**

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**Chapter 1**

"I don't want to go." Hermione barely lifted her head from the crook of her arm.

"You never want to go. You haven't gone once, not a single time. It's been years. It's time to go. It'll be good for you. You never know, you might even have fun." Ginny pleaded. It had been months since she'd had time to visit her friend. It wasn't that she didn't love Hermione anymore; life had just gotten in the way.

"I'm not in the mood for celebrating. There isn't anything to celebrate anyway. It's practically morbid if you ask me." Hermione's brown eyes peeked under her arm, between a curtain of curls.

"No one asked you." Ginny mumbled while picking up errant pieces of clothing. "When did you become so disgusting?" This she voiced loud enough for her friend to perk up.

"I am NOT. I just, haven't bothered to pick up since someone just decided to show unannounced." Hermione spoke with a gleam in her eyes.

Ginny missed this. She missed their easy banter. She missed the wicked spark her best friend had once had. She wished she knew how to get it back, but she figured, getting Hermione out of the house would be a grand first step.

"Do it for me. Harry would love to see you! It's been too long since we've done anything together. Ron is even…" Ginny stopped, watching Hermione for signs of distress. She ran her fingers through her long red hair, absentmindedly. Hermione didn't even raise an eyebrow.

"Ron's what?" Hermione asked, feigning interest. She idly picked a stray thread from the corner of her worn grey cardigan. She couldn't care less what Ron was or wasn't doing, but she wasn't about to tell Ginny that. Poor Ginny was still under the delusion they would work out just fine and everyone would live happily ever after.

"Ron's going to the gala, that's all." Ginny business herself magically washing dishes, while folding laundry.

"Still don't want to go. I want to go even less now, so thank you." Hermione crossed her legs, settling herself more comfortably on a wooden dining chair. Ginny stamped her foot in anger.

"Hermione Granger!" You're going. It's been decided. Harry and I have secured you a room at a quaint little Bed and Breakfast sort, down the road from the gala. It's only for a few days. You need to get out of this house! If you can't do it for yourself, then do it for me." Ginny threw a dish rag on the counter, slamming her hands against the stone. Hermione wanted to laugh, but she knew it wouldn't be the correct response. Ginny was genuinely angry. It was better to appease her at this point. She definitely didn't want to find herself on the receiving end of Ginny's Bat-Bogey-Hex.

"I haven't anything to wear." It was the closest to acceptance Hermione was willing to voice. She felt, rather than saw a smile slowly spread across Ginny's face. A whirlwind of red tresses practically skipped around her.

"We'll go shopping. I'll find you something fabulous." Ginny surveyed her friend with critical eyes. When did Hermione get so thin? When did she start looking so sallow? How long had she had those dark smudges under her eyes? "Maybe something in red. You do look fabulous in red."

Hermione's eyes closed tightly. She could feel a constriction in her chest. Blood, pools of blood everywhere, burning the insides of her eyelids. She shook her head slowly.

"Not red. Anything but red." Ginny didn't even notice Hermione's discomfort. She nodded, agreeing to anything as long as Hermione went with them.

Suddenly, Hermione found herself dressed. Ginny was throwing a dark robe over her shoulders, whisking her out the front door. Hermione knew she was going to regret this.

She looked at herself in the full length mirror, trying to find a resemblance to herself. Her hair was softly cascading down her back, held off her face with a simple, yet decorative silver hair pin. Her sequined silver dress hugging curves she wasn't aware she still had. Hermione felt self conscious with the amount of cleavage peeking over the top of the scalloped edge, but Ginny told her she was being prudish. The dress itself was beautiful. Quite possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever owned. It flared out from her hips, cascading almost to the floor, a tea length front, to show off her shoes Ginny said.

The shoes were the accessory Hermione loved the most. Ginny put up a bit of a fuss, something about how her shoes should be red but Hermione fell in love with the dark purple stiletto heels the moment she saw them in the store front window. A few strategically placed silver sequins on the many straps were the selling point. Even Ginny couldn't refute how absolutely perfect they were. Her makeup was simple but striking; a natural look, yet hiding the dark circles with ease. There was even a slight pink flush across her cheeks, Ginny noticed with satisfaction.

It was going to work. This was the thing which was going to pull Hermione out of her funk. This was going to fix everything. Ginny was sure of it.

"Now. We can't Apparate directly into the ballroom, which is good now that I think about it. We can't have people popping in and out all night. That would ruin everything. Just meet us out front and we'll walk to the gate. I'm sure they've arranged some sort of transport from there." Hermione nodded along, barely listening. "I've just got to hop on over to see how Harry is fairing. It was quite wicked of me to leave him with James." Ginny laughed and Hermione realized she missed the sound of laughter. She wondered how long it had been since SHE had laughed, but pushed the thought away.

"It's fine Ginny. I'm all grown up. You don't need to babysit me. I'll see you there." Hermione held up her hand, silencing her friend before she could object, "I promise." Ginny leaned forward, pulling her teal wrap closer around her body and gave Hermione a quick hug. Hermione barely heard the door closing.

She wasn't sure about this. She wasn't sure about this at all. She was letting herself be dragged to THE event. The one she'd spent so much time avoiding. Harry and Ginny had remembered her as an afterthought, which was fine by her, really. She didn't think she could stand staying in the same inn. It was intrusive enough having them down the street. Though, if she was being honest with herself, she disliked the shared bath. It was a small price to pay for Ginny's pestering to cease.

She found herself standing in her room with disinterest. It was going to be a difficult evening; of this she was already certain. She had never gone to this particular soiree before. Avoided it at all costs, quite honestly. Perhaps it was time to try something new. As much as it grated her to admit it, Hermione knew she had to do something. She needed to find her way out of the darkness and while she did not believe for one moment The Victory Day Gala was going to be a defining moment of healing for her, but it was better than staring at empty walls.

She thought she heard water running in her shared bath, her hand frozen on the glass door knob, but she found herself opening it regardless. Across the room from her, leaving, was a man. A towel slung low around his hips, another in his hair, leaving droplets of water on the floor. That wasn't particularly shocking to her, but what made her catch her breath were the scars. Silvery, almost imperceptible scars crisscrossed down his alabaster back, stopping just above his waist. With a gasp, before he could turn around, she shut the door, quickly grabbing her wrap and wand, exiting her cozy, warm room at the inn.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: In my perfect world...Fred is alive, which makes me not JK**

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Chapter 2

With a frown of irritation, he threw his robes onto the bed, a silent groan rumbling in his chest.

"This is ghastly." He shuddered, a slight snarl resting on his lips while taking in his decidedly mediocre surroundings. The lace doilies alone were enough to make him reconsider this catastrophe. With a grunt of displeasure, he threw open the door to the shared bath.

"Shared bath! As if I'm some sort of pauper!" Grumbling, he turned the taps, pleasantly surprised to discovering steaming hot water.

It wasn't as if he hadn't gone to the Victory Day Gala before. His father still refused to participate and as he stood showering, part of him believed he only attended to irritate his father. He really should have outgrown such notions by now, and yet, here he was.

"Victory Day. I wonder who thought up that gem." He mumbled to himself, letting the water cascade over his shoulders. In all honesty, he was planning on skipping it this year. It was exhausting. He was tired of the furtive glances, the barely concealed whispers whenever he walked through the ballroom. He was tired of biting remarks flying from his mouth. He didn't even mean them, most of them anyway, but if he didn't maintain the Draco Malfoy they expected, his father would hear of it. He tried to keep his father from hearing anything about him. Not that he was afraid of Lucius anymore, quite the contrary, but he had a reputation to maintain. What would people think if he started being…nice?

"I'm surprised it's not called Potter Day." Draco snickered to himself, without mirth as he dried himself off. The towel caught on his scars, like they usually did and for a moment, he forgot. He forgot to hate everything and everyone. He slung the towel across his hips, grabbing another to dry his hair. Sure, he could use magic, but sometimes he needed the reprieve. He needed to go slow, to reign in his thoughts, to keep his cool, to remember who he is. He thought he heard a door open and even a gasp, but when he turned, there was no one there.

At least Bill was going to keep him company. He laughed. If his father could see him in the company of a Weasley, this wouldn't be Victory Day, it would be another war. Part of him didn't understand why his father adamantly maintained his prejudices. He knew Lucius liked to blame his beliefs on the Dark Lord, but hell, the Dark Lord wasn't a pureblood. His father was a bloody Muggle, so what was the point of it all? Draco knew better than to really discuss such things in mixed company. The purebloods upholding the tradition of hatred would look down upon him, and the others? Well, they'd wonder if he had been beaten upon the head too many times. It was better to simply keep such thoughts to himself. Bill understood though.

Bill was scarred and broken just like he was. Though, Bill's scars were exterior rather than interior. Draco still couldn't watch Bill eat a steak, but other than that, he was a good chap. Draco wondered how different things would be if Greyback hadn't taken a piece out of Bill and the Dark Lord hadn't snared him. Of course, they probably wouldn't have an easy sort of friendship, but maybe he'd be happy. Or as close to happy as someone like Draco Malfoy could get.

He threw his wet towels on the floor, vacillating between getting dressed and taking a nap. He would only close his eyes for a moment; it couldn't possibly make a difference. He reclined on the large bed, murmuring in pleasure at its softness and closed his silvery eyes.

"_Crucio!" He heard his Aunt Bellatrix scream in mirth. He watched that Mudblood Granger squeeze her pink lips shut, refusing to scream. _

_Though he didn't wish to admit it, part of him admired her determination. If Bellatrix Lestrange couldn't make a filthy little Mudblood talk, then no one short of the Dark Lord himself could do it. He felt his body clenching in distaste. As much as he thought he hated her, he didn't believe anyone deserved this. Not this. Sure, he'd been through it himself, but that was different. Aunt Bellatrix was teaching him, training him. This was downright torture. It made his stomach churn and the bile rise in his throat. He found his eyes squeezing shut, the breaths in his chest hitching. He couldn't cry. Not for her. Not for her._

_He watched his mother approach Bellatrix, whispering in desperation. His eyes snapped open, knowing he would be next. Mudblood Granger writhed, her mouth slightly parted, tears escaping the corners of her eyes and he, Draco Malfoy, felt a pang of sympathy for her. He barely remembered his aunt hissing at him. He couldn't stop watching her._

_She needed to be alive. She wasn't moving anymore. His eyes bored holes into her chest, waiting for her to draw a breath. He felt his arm in a sudden vise grip, his mother's long fingernails digging into his skin. He let himself be lead away but, he couldn't just go. He felt himself pull away from his mother. He heard his footsteps echo on the marble. He winched when his knees slammed onto the floor beside her, his hands on either side of her head, tangled in his hair, a light scent of flowers wafting into his nostrils._

"_I'm sorry, Granger. Don't be dead. I'm sorry." He felt himself being dragged away. He stumbled for purchase on the slick floors._

"_I'M SORRY!" He screamed, feeling a spell cover him as he fell into unconsciousness._

Draco Malfoy woke gasping, clutching his chest, his hands shaking.

"Dammit!" He shouted at the walls, leaping off the bed. It wasn't the usual nightmare to invade his slumber, but it was unpleasant just the same. He needed to breathe. He threw on is dress robes in an angry flourish, willing his tremors to cease. Within minutes he was ready. A flick of his wand and his hair was an organised chaos, falling onto his forehead, concealing his eyes just the way he liked it.

He hurried from his room, down the long staircase and into the crisp, brisk air. Wizards of all shapes, sizes and ages were bustling along the cobblestone street. Most of them preferred to wear robes corresponding to the colours of their House, but Draco preferred simple black. He didn't like to stand out if he was being honest. One sure way to stand out at the Victory Day Gala was to wear the colours of Slytherin.

It was going to be a long night.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I love cake. I own cake. I would love to lick frosting from alabaster abs...and I would, if I was JK, but I'm not, so I can't but I still have cake.**

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Chapter 3

He smelled her before he saw her. He was immersed in his own thoughts when the breeze brushed across his face. He stopped short, frowning. A light, decidedly feminine scent assailed his nostrils. He shuddered as it tickled his hazy memory.

"Flowers? Vanilla? What is that?" He mumbled to himself, hurrying along with the flow of wizards toward the iron gates in front of the impressive estate. He couldn't have told you whose it was, to him it was just the place wizards and witches gathered once a year to remember things he'd rather forget. He caught a glimpse of a slip of a woman, her silver dress sparkling in the moonlight.

"Perhaps it won't be as vile as I thought." He found himself climbing into a carriage with a few other wizards and witches as it travelled slowly down the dirt path, trees enchanted to sparkle on either side.

It was a grand event, as it always was. The food, the drink, the dancing and oh the many speeches. Draco soon found himself bored of it all, wishing instead he were curled in front of a warm fire, a mug of tea and a good book to keep him company. Or a good woman. He wouldn't complain about that one bit.

"Malfoy." It wasn't said with derision, nor was it welcoming. Draco turned and found himself looking down at the star of the evening.

"Potter." He inclined his head, wishing he had left earlier to avoid moments such as this. Harry frowned slightly, noting the forced vehemence in his long time foe's voice.

"Bill sent me over. I dunno why, but he wants you to join us." Harry tilted his head to the left, watching for Malfoy's reaction. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Bill can right sod off. I came. I saw. I'm ready to leave." He hadn't intended on saying anything at all to Potter, the words just sort of found their out of his throat on their own. He did hate when that happened. To his surprise, Harry laughed.

"Secretly, I think Bill wants us all to live happily ever after." Draco scoffed, realising Harry Potter was attempting to be funny. This was entirely too friendly for his liking.

"I'm getting a bit of air." He turned on his heel, Harry's hand stopping him.

"Hey, you can join us if you'd like. If you see Hermione, would you point her in our direction?" Draco found himself confused by Potter's…kindness? Was that actual kindness? What on earth had he gotten himself into?

"Granger? She's here? She never comes to these…" Draco stopped as he saw Harry's eyebrows practically reach his hairline.

"Uh ya. Ginny dragged her. She's hoping it'll be good for her since the whole…" Harry stopped, realising he was telling Draco Malfoy of all people, intimate information about one of his best mates. Malfoy waited, but Harry stubbornly remained silent.

"Alright then." The two nodded at each other, turned in opposite directions and quickly retreated.

Draco glanced over his shoulder, watching Potter being surrounded by a gaggle of Weasleys. Harry turned, meeting Draco's stormy eyes, confusion etched across his face. Bill looked as if he were concerned. Well, as concerned as a werewolf could be anyway. Yes, yes he was well aware Bill Weasley wasn't really a werewolf, but if he couldn't rib Bill a bit, what was the point of living? Draco found himself shaking his head, backing toward the French doors. He really didn't want Bill making a fuss. Potter was cordial, strangely enough and Draco did not feel that old animosity within him anymore, but he didn't exactly wish to be friends with him either.

He stepped backwards onto the veranda, closing the glass doors in front of him before spinning on his heel. There were small groups of wizards and witches chatting amicably. To his right, in the darkest corner was a woman standing alone. The moonlight bounced off her long dark curls, her dress shimmering. Draco watched her pull her purple wrap closer around her shoulders, the breeze growing stronger, pulling it halfway down her waist. She pulled her hair over her left shoulder and his breath caught in his throat.

Not because she was a beautiful, beguiling sight, she was, but it was the scar. A small, silvery scar almost drawn on her seemingly flawless skin with a paintbrush. It started just below her shoulder blade, extended almost clear to the other side, dipping below the back of her dress. It reminded him of his own scar. He knew exactly who had done such a thing to her. He didn't feel remorse. He didn't feel anger. He realised, he didn't feel much of anything at all; shock perhaps. It wasn't often he came across another whom sported a mark given by his aunt. It wasn't something he spoke about nor did anyone else. It made Draco wonder how many other witches and wizards carried a reminder of their moments spent with Bellatrix Lestrange.

Draco found himself moving toward her. He fumbled with the top edge of her purple wrap, drawing it over her shoulders, running his thumb across her scar. She didn't pull away. She didn't flinch. She didn't do much of anything. A soft sigh escaped her lips. He found himself placing his palm against the sid of her neck, his thumb barely grazing her earlobe. She leaned into his hand, still not questioning the forwardness of his actions. He ran his right hand down her shoulder, his left arm encircling her waist. She leaned against him, resting her head on his chest, her left hand covering his right.

"Thanks Bill; knew I could count on you." Draco pulled away slightly, but she held his hand tightly against her shoulder. He could feel her turning around in his arms, releasing his hand. Her liquid brown eyes wide, her mouth parted as she looked into his grey eyes.

"Granger?" He didn't remove his arm from her, nor step away.

"Malfoy." Her brow furrowed, "Thought you were Bill." She shook her head quickly, as if trying to clear her confusion. Draco inhaled, the scent of flowers making him smile. Just a slight, half smile, but she saw it. She tilted her head, studying him curiously.

"I'm sorry." He whispered the words softly. Draco Malfoy didn't know what made him say such a thing, but it felt right. He watched her brown eyes widen in surprise, her lips slightly parted.

"It's you." His heart pounded under her fingertips. He wanted to run. He should be stalking in the opposite direction, derision pouring from his lips, yet he wasn't. He knew he shouldn't be standing anywhere with his arms wrapped around Mudblood Granger. Inwardly, he cringed, hearing his Aunt Bellatrix cackle in the deep recesses of his mind. His father would be furious, but what else was new really.

Hermione didn't pull away from him, instead resting her hand upon his chest. She leaned toward him slightly, inhaling. The woodsy scent of sandalwood and pine was familiar, yet stirred an unpleasant memory she pushed away forcefully.

"It's me. What is that supposed to mean?" Draco Malfoy spat, finding himself irritated, an old feeling of malice rising in him.

"It..it _was_ you…wasn't it?" She hoped she would not have to explain further than that. It was difficult as it was. Hermione watched him draw a shuddering breath, his arms quivering lightly around her.

He wanted to lash out. He wanted to spit hateful words and watch her eyes well with tears. He wanted to shove her away from him, but he couldn't. He saw the broken little girl on his drawing room floor had grown into the woman before him. He didn't want to watch her break.

"Granger, so melodramatic." He scoffed, rolling his eyes with his customary smirk. He blinked and her long fingers were resting against his lips.

"Don't." Her golden eyes closed, hiding them from his sight. "Just answer me." Her voice wavered as his lips burned. It was difficult to remain nonchalant, especially with her in his arms.

"Yes." The word hissed between her fingers in resignation. He opened his eyes to find her staring in wonder, at him, of all people. They weren't aware of how long they stood there, studying each other in silence, Hermione's fingers still pressed against his lips.

Bill Weasley cleared his throat and still, they didn't turn. 'Interesting' he thought to himself, wondering whether he should venture toward them. He didn't want to get on the bad side of his baby sister. Ginny was getting agitated with Hermione's absence, but maybe, that could wait.

Bill's friendship with Draco Malfoy was unexpected yet easy. As much as Bill loved his brothers, and even his wife, they didn't understand; not really. Sure, they were supportive but something was missing. Bill couldn't put his finger on what it was, but whatever it was, Draco had it. Draco had an unspoken understanding when it came down to it and that's exactly what Bill needed. He didn't need to be coddled or pitied. He just wanted someone to listen to his rage without judgement.

Sure, Draco didn't speak of his own angst, but it was easy companionship. He wasn't self conscious, he could be himself; the part of himself which was dark and sometimes a little scary if he was being honest. He could be angry. He could rant and rave and eat his meat however he liked it. Childish? Perhaps, but he would rather release the tension than trap it inside him as his friend was so fond of doing.

Of all the things he expected to happen this evening, this was definitely not one of them.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Once upon a time I owned Harry Potter...then I woke up. Sad panda.**

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Chapter 4

She could feel his heart rapidly pounding beneath her fingertips. She saw Bill standing there, just behind them, an amused sort of expression on his disfigured face, before he eased back into the shadows.

What was wrong with her? This was Malfoy. The boy who happened to plagued her all through school. The boy who happened to hated her as much as most people hated Voldemort. She shouldn't be standing there allowing him these liberties. Harry and Ron were going to be furious. She tried to move away from him, but his arm tightened, keeping her still. Her brows furrowed in confusion. He wasn't saying a word. The old Hermione probably would have slapped him before wrenching herself away, but that Hermione was long gone. She had been missing for so long, Hermione barely remembered the witch she was expected to be.

She felt his hand on her shoulder. It didn't make her feel uncomfortable. A small part of her mind kept telling her it should, but lots of things should be more important to her than they currently are. She felt his fingers against her jawline, holding her face in his large hand. His thumb moved slowly down to her chin and she found herself looking up at him, meeting his steel grey eyes.

"I…I should go. Ginny is probably looking for me." Hermione stammered. 'Since when do I stammer?' She mentally cursed herself. A half small flashed across Draco's face, disappearing as quickly as it appeared.

"Let her look." He lowered his head, resting his forehead on hers. A flash of light interrupted their moment. They turned to see someone with a camera scurrying away. They both inwardly groaned. There wasn't anyone they could think of who would be happy to see them on the cover of The Daily Prophet.

"Bollocks." Hermione hissed, closing her eyes. She felt his breath against her neck.

"I'll be seeing you, Granger." The words were whispered softly against her ear. She opened her eyes and he was gone.

Ron came bursting through the doors, glowering the moment he laid eyes on Hermione. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, lips parted, a hand resting over her heart.

"Oi! Hermione!" He strode over, his maroon dress robes clashing with his hair and billowing out behind him. He grasped Hermione's elbow leading her back toward the ballroom. "What was that? Were you out here with…with Malfoy?!" He was dragging her now, causing her to stumble in her uncharacteristically high heels.

"Ron! Stop it! Let me go!" She wrenched her arm from his grasp, holding onto the door frame. "You've no right." For a moment, a flicker of her old fire burned in her.

"No right? Hermione! He's…he's Malfoy. He's the enemy." Ron's dark blue eyes darkened with what looked like misplaced anger, in Hermione's opinion. She scoffed, looking behind him. She saw a pert brunette hesitantly coming toward them.

"The enemy, Ron? Really? Voldemort is gone. There is no enemy any longer. You're one to talk. Astoria Greengrass?" Ron twisted to look behind them, a flish of guilt spreading across his smattering of freckles.

"She's alright eh? You can't tell me…" Ron pulled on her hand even as Hermione fought against him.

"Exactly Ron. I can't. I won't. And neither should you." She pushed passed Ron, intending to skirt around Astoria, and and stopped. The elegant brunette grazed her hand across Hermione's arm.

"Ms Granger. Astoria Greengrass." The lilting voice drew Hermione from her mission, her eyes still on Bill.

"Yes?" Hermione tore her eyes from Bill, in deep discussion with Draco Malfoy of all people, to size up the woman before her. She was pretty to say the least. 'If you like that sort of thing' Hermione scoffed internally. She was young, yet regal, her cream robes swirling around her slight frame. Her dark eyes wavered under the scrutiny, Hermione's brow arching in surprise.

"Ron's a bit," Astoria drew a shaky breath, "peckish." Hermione laughed, covering her mouth quickly in embarrassment.

"Sorry. Ron's always a bit peckish." She forced the bubbling laughter down, seeing Astoria's discomfort rise.

"He seems to still…care for you a great deal." The soft words tapered off, causing Hermione to strain to hear them. Realisation dawned, her features softening toward Astoria.

"No, no. Ron and Harry will always be my very best friends. We were deluded for a bit, thinking it could segue into something more, but we were mistaken, truly. You've nothing to worry about from me, Astoria." Hermione observed the striking woman visibly relax. Ron scurried over, waylaid at the bar, tossing a protective arm around his date's shoulders.

"What you up to now? Determined to ruin everything eh?" Ron shot daggers at his former love, beads of sweat forming in his hairline.

"Quite the contrary," Hermione huffed, irritated with his assumptions. "In fact, I was telling your lovely date what a wonderful person you are and despite your short comings you'll always be one of my closest friends." Without waiting for a reply, she smiled demurely at Astoria, whisking herself toward Bill Weasley. Hermione failed to notice Ron's astonishment nor his smile of relief.

Hermione walked as quickly as possible without drawing attention to herself, toward Bill and Draco Malfoy. She could hear snippets of their whispered conversation.

"What happened?" Bill murmured, his hand resting on Draco's shoulder.

"I don't know what happened! It shouldn't have and I can't…" At her approach, Malfoy spun around, instantly silent, his eyes on the platform in front of them. His chest hurt with an ache he didn't understand, while his heart continued to hammer within him. He caught a whiff of her before he saw her. It was calming yet also incredibly infuriating. Of all the people in the wizarding world, why did it have to be _her_ who stirred these unfamiliar sensations?

He was aware of Bill and Granger speaking in hushed tones, but he didn't want to know. He didn't want to be there anymore. He wanted to be in his cruddy little room, at the cruddy little inn, a glass of firewhisky clutched in his hand and forget this night ever happened. He knew if he didn't leave soon, the Minister was going to drag him in front of the masses with Potter and Weasley (the one he still disliked.)

He disliked standing in for Granger. The Golden Trio should be up there. Not him. Never him. The only good he ever did was pretending he didn't know it was Harry Potter in front of him during their imprisonment at Malfoy Manor. It was cowardly, but they didn't know his father. Not really. They didn't know his aunt either. His eyes slid toward Hermione's exposed back. Well, maybe Granger knew more than the others, but even so. Draco sidled over to Bill's side.

"Bill, listen mate…" He caught the surprise in Hermione's caramel eyes, but ignored it; ignored her.

"Please. Everyone. Be seated. It is time to begin." The Minister for Magic's voice boomed across the ballroom.

"Bollocks." He was trapped now. No one left when the Minister was speaking, especially when the Minister was Kingsley Shacklebolt. The crowd of wizards and witches calmly took their seats, watching Shacklebolt with expectation.

Bill turned from Draco, shrugging in apology, holding the high backed cushioned chair for his wife, Fleur. Hermione stood beside him. Draco found himself holding her chair for her, taking the conspicuously empty seat next to her. His hand started to shake. Desperately he wished he had left earlier. He had skipped this madness last year. In fact, if he remembered correctly, which of course he did, he was a Malfoy after-all; the Minister had dragged Longbottom up with Potter and the Weasel. Why couldn't they settle for whomever was in attendance was beyond him. What did it matter who did what anymore? Why couldn't they just move on with their lives? Why was it necessary to drag everything to the surface?

He glanced around the room, shaking his foot impatiently against the leg of his chair, his fingers tapping the table to disguise their shaking. 'Maybe I'll be spared this year. Seems everyone is in attendance. Fantastic. I need to get out of here.' His mind was on over-drive, searching for an escape route. Minister Shacklebolt was saying something about the Battle of Hogwarts and how brave everyone was, but Draco was distracted. He felt a small, cold hand slide over his.

He looked at it as if it were a foreign object. His eyes traced from the hand, up the arm and into the eyes of Hermione Granger. She wasn't looking at him, but she was applying distinct pressure to his hand anyway. She looked as nervous as he felt. He could see her pulse throbbing rapidly, her breath hitching in her chest. He found himself blocking out everything else other than her hand on his. He should feel revulsion, shouldn't he? Disgust? Hatred? Something. His father's voice was in his head. 'Filthy Mudbloods. Tainted blood. Blood traitor.' But, he didn't feel that way. He wasn't sure he felt anything at all.

"Come on." Draco was drawn out of his haze, watching the occupants of their table slowly ascend the expansive stage. It was small before, he could have sworn it was. His eyes took in the scene before him. Numerous wizards and witches, their faces blank, were joining the procession, fanning out beside Shacklebolt. Draco recognized every single face. He started to name them under his breath.

"Potter. She-Potter. Weasley. Longbottom. Lovegood. Finnegan. Thomas. Change. McGonagall. Jordan." Hermione tugged on his hand.

"We haven't a choice; let's just…get this over with." Draco found himself standing, Granger's hand still in his and allowed himself to be drawn forward, standing uncomfortably between Potter and Granger. He shifted subtly, moving Granger in front of him, keeping their contact. He wished he could disappear, become a nondescript face in the background, but that was impossible with Granger on his arm. She had to be at the forefront. The Weasel kept peeking around Potter's shoulder, shooting nasty glances at Draco.

Irritating the Weasel; this was something he could do, easily. Draco Malfoy slid his arm around Hermione's waist, his other still resting at his side. Ron Weasley reached for his wand, Harry grasping it in his hand quickly with a slight shake of his head. Ron's face reddened considerably when Hermione placed her hand on Draco's arm.

"Don't push your luck, mate." Bill leaned forward, nudging Draco's shoulder with his own. "Ron's liable to hex you right in front of the Minister you keep taunting him." Almost imperceptibly he raised a shoulder in a silent shrug. Obviously Weasley and Granger were over, so what did it matter, really. Hermione dug her nails into Draco's hand. He leaned over her shoulder, his lips near her ear.

"What's he doing?" She whispered with a tremor in her voice. She'd never attended before, this was going to be difficult for her, he realised.

"First, Shacklebolt talks about the Battle of Hogwarts. Then, there's a picture showing of the fallen, on both sides, to remind us we're all human or some other such nonsense. Then there's a thank you for our service sort of announcement and most of the time Potter attempts to say something really uplifting and witty, which it never is, before everyone reconvenes at the bar." She stiffened against him, her body shaking. "Just…just keep your eyes closed. It's easier that way." She nodded silently, her knees buckling. Draco held her against him so she didn't collapse on the floor.

He didn't tell her about the first year he tried to leave before the 'festivities'. Draco didn't wish to remember practically being stunned to remain so he could be flaunted before the attendees. He wished they didn't bother with the Death Eaters. How are people supposed to heal? The ones who had actually been tortured, if they were constantly reminded of those who had done it to them? His hands started shaking again, even wrapped around Hermione. He thought if he steadied her, it would steady him, yet he felt himself slipping. He felt Bill's large hand on his shoulder.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, withdrawing into a quiet corner of his mind. He didn't want to see her. Not because he hadn't loved her. Of course he had, at least he thought he did. She was his aunt after-all, but even so. She had tortured him. Of course it was easy to blame The Dark Lord for it all, but Draco knew better. Bellatrix enjoyed it. She reveled in it. She basked in the glory of torment and torture. She was so far gone, she would have flayed her own skin if Voldemort had demanded it of her.

Dumbledore wouldn't have done this, Draco thought suddenly. Sure, he would have honoured them, but not, not like this. He was grateful they didn't show flashing pictures of Fenrir Greyback, otherwise he would be comforting Bill as well and he only had so many hands. Dumbledore would have had some solemn occasion. One where, perhaps they gathered on the grounds of Hogwarts, wands lit, raised in the air, while Dumbledore reminded us all to never forget the power of good when faced with evil. It would have been short and ridiculously sweet, but memorable. Sure, it probably would have ended the same, with them all drinking their night away while he ate various kinds of sweets, but short and sweet is always better when it comes to remembering the departed. Draco surprised himself with his revelation.

Hermione stifled a sob, spinning quickly, burying her face in Draco's dress robes. He rested his chin on her head, squeezing her lightly.

"It's almost over." He murmured into her hair. Bill shook his head in amazement. He wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but he figured in due time, he'd be enlightened. He was a patient sort of man. Reining Ron in on the other hand, was going to be a bit of an issue; of that he was certain. Bill raised his good eyebrow in warning at the youngest Weasley brother, who looked determined to cause a ruckus.

Bill took Fleur's hand, nudging Draco and Hermione. He inclined his head toward the door behind them. Draco nodded, whispering something Bill missed into Hermione's hair, leading her toward the door. They needed to get out of there. Honestly, this wasn't the sort of event anyone should be subjected to, it bordered on barbaric.

Astoria clutched Ron's clammy hand between her own, stopping him from following her old beau and his old girlfriend. It didn't matter a wit to her what Draco Malfoy did with his time anymore. Not since he abruptly ended their engagement, risking the wrath of both their parents. She knew her choice of Ron didn't please her parents, but he was kind to her. After the whirlwind of angst named Draco, she decided she deserved some kindness. She wasn't going to let some residual feelings on Ron's part for Hermione Granger, of all people, to ruin it. She watched with little interest as Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger exited the ballroom. Inwardly she sighed in relief, hoping against hope, Hermione's words rang true.

"Come on then, we're almost there. If I can do it, you can too." The words of encouragement kept Hermione's feet moving. She supposed being here would be difficult for him as well. He was never applauded for any of his life saving actions during the war. He was shunning for the most part. That tended to happen when your father was a well-known Death Eater. Even if he had been pardoned, some things just couldn't be forgotten. She stumbled during her musings, falling into his side.

"I can't." Her chest heaved with the exertion of not only breathing, but working their way across the grounds towards the carriages.

"We can't Apparate from here, love." She stopped, jerking him to a stop beside her.

"Malfoy." He looked down, his grey eyes meeting her golden brown. "Who are you?" She sounded beyond incredulous.

"Draco Malfoy, Slytherin. Obnoxiously arrogant, filthy rich, dead sexy, former involuntary Death Eater at your service." He ignored the hidden question within her words with an easy smirk.

"I mean…"

"I know exactly what you mean, Granger. Frankly, I'm a bit insulted. Thought better of you than that with all your house-elf-freeing-be-kind-to-every-living-thing campaign. Guess Draco Malfoy doesn't fit into that pretty little equation." He tugged her behind him, never expecting a reply.

They reached the carriages in silence. He sung open the door, lifting her easily inside. She sat on the bench seat, sliding over, seemingly making room for him. He shook his head. Taking a quick look around, he climbed inside the carriage, kneeled in front of her and wrapped a luxurious throw across her knees. She stared at him in wonder.

Draco Malfoy tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, leaned in precariously close, allowing amusement to dance in his eyes when her breathing became shallow. He ran his thumb along her jaw, achingly gentle. Hermione felt a bit unsettled by his close proximity and the gooseflesh peppering her skin.

"I'll be seeing you, Granger." He whispered against her ear, his lips brushing her cheek.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I had a dream I owned Harry Potter and all was right in the world...but then I woke up. Le sigh.**

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Chapter 5

Draco Malfoy watched her carriage carry her down the narrow lane, feeling good about himself for the first time in…well, ever. He had done a good deed. Not out of self preservation or because it was expected of him, simply because it felt like the right thing to do. He walked back toward the manor slowly, engrossed in his thoughts.

"A feeling, I had a feeling? Well, didn't know I was capable of that." He took a moment to absorb his surroundings. It wasn't his family's manor, thank Merlin, yet it was lovely just the same.

Standing at the top of the marble stairs, waiting and watching, was Bill Weasley.

"Did you really now?" Bill was amused. He had watched Draco take Hermione to the carriages, his entrance and exit. He was curious about his friend. He was used to seeing Silent-Brooding-Draco. This was something new. Maybe he was finally beginning to work through his pent up issues. If anyone needed to do that it was Draco.

"Yeah, mate. I, well, I think I did anyway. I'm not sure, actually." Draco settled onto the top step, Bill tucking in beside him. He knew it was best to stay silent if he wanted to learn anything.

"It's just well, I don't know really. You're my best mate at this point and sure, we talk and other womanly things and while, well I understand all…considering…" Draco gestured to the jagged scar marring Bill's cheek. "I never really, well, I mean, I'm so used to being angry. For myself, for you, for well, I don't know who else, that's pretty much the gist of me. I never thought about, trying to help anyone else? And…and, don't get me wrong, I didn't, well I didn't do it on purpose, mind you. It was sort of an accident." Draco nodded suddenly, tapering off. Bill Weasley ran a hand through his long red hair, nodding and smiling.

"On accident you say? How does that work exactly?" Bill prodded, just a bit. If Draco really wanted to keep it to himself, he would. Instead, Draco twisted toward him, scratching the side of his face, frowning.

"Well, I don't really know, mate. I saw her, before, but I didn't know it was her. I didn't know it was…"

"Hermione." Bill supplied, stifling a snort.

"Yea, Granger. I just thought it was some, ya know, girl." Draco raked his fingers through his hair, causing errant pieces to stick up about his head.

"Hermione is a girl." Bill's shoulders were shaking in mirth.

"Well, yea, but she's Granger. I didn't know it was Granger alright? She's always been a bit of a pain in the arse. I never really lik.." Draco's eyes narrowing spying Bill's lazy knowing smirk. "Alright fine! I saw her and then I saw her again right? And I saw something I've never seen before and I had to make sure and…" Bill's head popped up.

"Saw what then?" Draco stopped his rambling, inspecting his dress robes instead, picking silver sequins off before shoving his hands in his pockets.

"It's not mine to tell, Bill. Let's just say, alright, imagine…" he paused, "Imagine you saw a bloke on the street one day and his face was marred a bit like yours. Wouldn't you want to…you know, find out a bit about it and whatnot?" Bill stiffened.

He had heard of Draco's scars but never seen them himself. Was he saying…Did Hermione have scars? He thought he knew every bit of her interrogation and subsequent torture by the deceased mad woman. Yet, no one knew about Draco Malfoy's torture by the hands of his relatives, so it goes to reason, everyone could hold their own secrets. The thought had honestly never crossed his mind. No wonder she was so changed, so withdrawn, so decidedly un-Hermione after the Battle of Hogwarts. She had her own demons; demons she had never voiced nor confronted. Draco Malfoy saw her inner demons, reached out and provided comfort. Bill almost keeled over at the anomaly.

"Oi! Malfoy, you git! Where's Hermione?!" Ginny, wand raised at the ready, stormed toward them, her eyes flashing in rage. Draco stood, raising his hands palms out.

"I put her in a carriage. Ask Bill." He didn't want to argue with Weasleys or Potters or whatever she was. He had too many thoughts circling his brain. He needed to get out of there and clear his head.

"Ginny, put it down. Hermione's back at the inn, I'll wager." Bill strategically placed himself between his best mate and his baby sister.

"What did you do to her?" Ginny ignored Bill, though she did slow her forward momentum. Draco smirked at her in distaste.

"What did I do? I did nothing. Nothing at all. I stood there. Should I not have stood there?" Draco felt the familiar heat flowing through his veins. He was getting angry. It had been a long time since he'd been genuinely angry.

"Ginny, I was standing there. It was a bit too much for her. Malfoy here caught your friend so she didn't tumble off the ridiculous platform. Brought her outside, set her in a carriage." Ginny stumbled a bit, stopping sort in front of her brother and his friend.

"Really? She…she took it badly? Bill raised an eyebrow at his baby sister, knowing better. "Well, alright Bill. I thought with us here and Ron that she'd be alright, but…"

"Nothing ever goes as you've planned. Go inside Ginny." Bill shook his head, throwing his arm around Draco's shoulders. "Listen, head on back to the inn. I know you never sleep, so I'll stop on by before Fleur and I head back home. We're skipping the rest of the…event. We'll have a drink." Draco nodded, letting himself be lead to the carriages. They really were quite pretty if he stopped to think about it, but his mind was already full. It was unable to retain the beauty around him.

"Oi! Malfoy, you git! Where is she?" Ron was running across the expansive entry way, echoing his sister while brandishing his wand. Ginny and Harry attempted to hold him back while Bill shook his head, nodding to the driver. Draco Malfoy looked a tad lost as the carriage departed the grounds.

"Draco Malfoy had a feeling. Whoever would have thought?" Bill mused aloud before heading back to the fray.

"Why'd she go to him? Why him? Malfoy! He's a bloody ponce! He was a bloody Death Eater! His aunt used an Unforgivable on her and she goes to him?!" Ron's angry prattling at the bar was driving Bill mad.

"We all used to be someone else Ronald." Astoria Greengrass had an authoritative manner about her, which Bill decided his brother desperately needed.

"Yea, but he's Malfoy." Ron sputtered, determined to remain insulting and angry.

"You've never had a singular moment of regret? My how fortunate for you. Wouldn't it be lovely if everyone could be as lovely as Ronald Weasley? Perhaps if you speak to Minister Shacklebolt he'll give you an award." Her words were spoken so softly, it took a moment for Ron to realise his date was being facetious.

"He doesn't mean it like that Astoria, you're twisting his words." Harry Potter piped up, his pint dangerously low yet still defending his friend. "He just means, Malfoy's always been a bit of a git and Hermione should know a bit better than to..." His words froze in his throat, forgetting Bill Weasley was friends with the person they were disparaging.

"Oh yes, famous Harry Potter. You've never thrown a wicked spell in a lavatory have you then? You've never seen someone cut down by your actions? So then, you also haven't a bit of regret, do you? Must be bloody delightful to have the courage of Gryffindor to hide behind. As for me, I might always be Slytherin through and through, but you'll always know where you stand with me. I've done many regretful things, yet I'm honest with myself about them. I don't make excuses for my behaviour. If you'll excuse me." Whipping her cream robes around her shoulders, Astoria Greengrass threw back her shoulders, her delicate nose pointed in the air with a bit of arrogance, leaving the ballroom to the chagrin of two very drunk wizards and a snickering Weasley sitting at the bar.

"Crikey, now I have her angry with me too!" Ron's red hair shook slowly as Harry pushed over another pint.

"She's not…wrong." Harry's words were slightly slurred and even then he balked at the idea of agreeing with a Slytherin.

"Not helping Harry!" Ron's head crashed into the bar. "Hey!"

"Wanker!" Ginny Potter's brown eyes blazed with fury, directed toward her husband and older brother.

"So abusive. Harry, tell your wife to stop! OW!" Ginny beat her brother about his head with her clutch angrily.

"I'm going to check on Hermione. If you're going to take a piss on the entire evening, let me know now and I'll go home." Harry lifted his bleary eyes, as he grasped his wand, searching his muddled brain for a sobriety spell.

"We'll be along. Meet you in the foyer. Promise, love." Ron covered his head with both hands expecting to be bludgeoned by his sister while Harry blinked as though it were painful.

"Why's she beatin' on me anyway?"

"You're obnoxious Ronald Weasley. Hermione left. Malfoy left. Astoria left. Seems to me you're intent on wrecking havoc wherever you go eh? Mum would be cross with you as well." Ginny Potter dared her eldest brother to refute her words. Bill shrugged, trying to determine the best moment to leave this wonderfully delightful evening of shite.

"She's channeling her inner mum again, Harry. Make 'er stop." Ron was rewarded for his declaration with a smack about the back of his head, causing it to throb a bit.

"Ginny's cross with you now. Think you've hit a record." Harry talked into his pint, still unable to recall a sobriety spell or if such a thing even existed.

"Bollocks." Ron slouched on his bar stool, wishing he was invisibile. Harry found himself laughing unintentionally.

"Hear, hear!"


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I live in a world where Fred, Tonks &amp; Lupin live, it's a pretty world and it's not JK's...it's all mine, much like this plot.**

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Chapter 6

Hermione Granger undressed slowly in the flickering candlelight, still deep in thought over the evenings happenings. She pulled the glittering silver pin from her hair, placing it on the lace covered table next to the large bed; her dress draped across the foot of her bed. She stood in the semi-darkness, enjoying the moments of silence, hugging herself. It comforted her in a small way to feel her own pressure containing her.

A light knock at the door interrupted her ministrations. Grabbing a dressing gown, she cracked the door.  
"Ginny." Hermione was surprised by the sudden arrival of her friend. She assumed Ginny would still at the Victory Day celebrations. Ginny pushed her way into Hermione's room, eyes flashing toward every corner.

"You're alright then?" Ginny's voice was higher than normal, suspicion written plainly across her features.

"Of course I'm alright. Better now that I'm not there. Would you care for a spot of tea?" Hermione gestured toward an overstuffed floral chair near the fireplace. Ginny's eyes narrowed.

"Where's Malfoy?" Hermione pushed her hair off her forehead, facing her friend with her arms crossed.

"Not here. He put me in a carriage and went back to the gala I assume." Ginny visibly relaxed. She nodded curtly, hugging her friend tightly.

"Sorry, I just, I was worried. Ron said…but then Bill said…" Ginny rambled sort of aimlessly, heading back toward the still open door.

"Ron? What has Ron got to do with…" Hermione trailed off, zeroing in on her friend's guilty glance. "Ginny, really, c'mon now; Ron and I are over. So very over. And…as much as I love you, I do wish you'd stop already. He's seemingly happy with Astoria. I'm happy he's happy. I don't need him. I'm perfectly alright on my own. Now go." Hermione shoved her friend out the door as Ginny smiled.

"Sorry, can't seem to help myself, can I? Harry and I will stop on by later. He's a bit in his cups at the moment. I'm sure you'll be up." Ginny hugged her quickly, before stepping into the corridor to Disapparate.

Hermione shook her head. Ginny was never going to give up on the idea of her and Ron. She picked up her discarded dress, lying it across the back of yet another floral chair. She pulled out a filmy semi-sheer nightgown, her one whimsical piece of clothing. She shimmied it over her head, climbed into bed, prepared to drink hot tea and read.

She found herself unable to concentrate on the words dancing on the page. She was so very tired, exhausted if she was willing to tell herself the truth. Hermione ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. She found her thoughts returning to Draco Malfoy. It was slightly disconcerting to her, the entire encounter really.

"Why was he so bloody nice to me? He's always hated me, hasn't he? Though, apparently he's mates with Bill Weasley. Bill isn't the sort to befriend just anyone. I wonder what this means? Has Draco Malfoy, Slytherin, Former Death Eater, turned into a…kind, well I can't even say it without laughing, yet…" Hermione trailed off, unaware she was speaking aloud. She found herself chewing the corner of her lip as she was apt to do, trapped in a loop of moments. Her fingers traced the edges of her lips, her jaw line, her earlobe, reveling in the feel of his hands against her skin. She found herself drifting off to slumber with thoughts of Draco Malfoy's arms wrapped around her.

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Draco Malfoy paced. His dress robes askew, sliding off the edge of his bed, his hair a tousled mess, a frown etched into his forehead. He had unbuttoned his crisp white button down, an undershirt sticking to his chest, before throwing his tea cup against the wall.

"This is what it feels like? Feelings. Well, personally, I think they're overrated. My father got on just fine without feeling a blasted thing, so why can't I? He hated. Father was fantastic with anger. Anger is easier. Anger doesn't make a person feel a bit out of sorts. It simply is. I hate Potter and the Weasel. I hate Granger too, don't I? Bloody know it all." He threw his shirts onto an armchair and removed his pants before flouncing onto the incredibly firm bed. "Ugh. This is horrid. I should just, skip the rest of this nonsense and go…" He stopped. It wasn't as if he could go home. It wasn't as if he really had a home for that matter. He had a place where he resided but it wasn't really home. His father had made it abundantly clear he wasn't welcome home the moment he ended his engagement to Astoria Greengrass. He didn't regret his decision. Not in the least, it was just…

"What is that?" Draco leaped from the bed, wand clutched firmly in his hand, moving silently toward the door to his room. "Sounds like a primal…scream…" He stopped. He knew exactly what it was and who was it coming from.

His question was now the same as Ginny and Ron's…

"Where is she?" His immediate thought was to venture into the corridor, but with the sounds of the screams intensifying, he knew they would be filled with disgruntled witches and wizards. He didn't think they'd appreciate him throwing open his door in his trousers. He moved toward his shared bath, his hand on the knob when he felt it reverberating under his fingers. Tentatively, he opened the door, listening to the gasping sounds between the blood curdling screams.

"Really? Fancy that." He spoke aloud before crossing the cool tile toward the adjoining door. He wondered for a moment if she had locked it, chuckling with the errant thought. He twisted the knob, surprised when it swung open.

He could see a vague shape in the bed directly in front of him. Head thrown back, hair cascading down her shoulders and back, limbs tense, mouth stretched wide, back arched in the throes of mental anguish. The room was disheveled. Books were slamming to the wall, papers were spinning in circles. This was strong magic, unknown magic. Draco knew it was the remnants of unspoken torture.

"Silencio." Draco could hear the angry mutterings turn to relief beyond the door. They assumed she ahd stopped. He knew better. Sure, her voice was silent, but it did not stop her actions, though her belongings did crash to the floor.

He felt a pang, deep in his chest, remembering when he was a child. He knew the last face she would want to see was his, but he couldn't leave her. Not like that. With a flick of his wand, he lit the candles placed on almost every surface.

A memory was tugging the corner of his mind. His mother swathed in soft white robes, rocking him softly, brushing his hair off his forehead, shushing him quietly, fearfully keeping an eye on his bedroom door. It took time, but Draco Malfoy learned to silence his nightmares, to tend his own wounds, to resist inflicted pain. He was the one person who knew exactly who invaded Hermione Granger's dreams.

Gingerly, he sat on the edge of her bed and still, she screamed. He almost wished he could hear it, had he sounded that way during his 'training' with his Aunt Bellatrix? Instead, he found himself slipping into bed behind her, pressing his chest against her back, pinning her arms to her sides, shushing her, in much the same way his mother had, once upon a time, for him.

"Shhh, it's alright. You're not alone. I'm here. Relax." He wasn't sure if those were the correct words to say, but it was always what his mother had said and it was all he had. Slowly, Hermione's breathing was returning to normal, her head straining against his chest, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, tears leaking from the corners. When Draco was sure her screams were finished, he removed the Silencing Charm as easily as he had applied it. He listened to her gasping for breath, watching her chest heave. He knew now probably wasn't the best time to be appreciative of the sheerness of her nightie, but now was all he had. She relaxed her head, lolling it against his shoulder.

"She's here. She's here." Hoarse words whispered her terror.

"She's not, I promise. She can't hurt you. Not anymore. She's dead." Hermione's head shifted toward the sound of his voice. "Don't open your eyes." Draco instructed her. He didn't want to throw her back to the place she'd barely escaped.

"Malfoy?" Her voice was rough and scratchy, but he nodded just the same.

"Yeah, sorry." He started to extricate himself from around her, but she grasped his arms, pinning them to her chest.

"Don't…just…" Hermione couldn't formulate the words. She couldn't ask Draco Malfoy to stay. She couldn't tell him he was doing for her what Ron had never done. She didn't want to be alone. She wanted…well, she wasn't quite sure what she wanted, but she felt almost calm. There wasn't an encompassing, debilitating fear clawing its way to the surface. She could breath. Hermione knew she shouldn't want him to stay. She should feel disgust, but she didn't. She felt safe, which was terrifying for her just the same.

It wasn't often Draco Malfoy held a half naked woman. He couldn't remember the last time. Sometime after the Battle of Hogwarts, he was certain; at least he thought he was certain. He'd been alone for so long, he forgot what humanity felt like. She was soft and supple, filling the air with the lightest scent of flowers. He reminded himself to ask her what it was, if he ever saw her again.

Hermione crawled over his leg, feeling him shudder by the contact. She kept her eyes closed as he had requested yet her curiosity was getting the best of her. She felt him moving away from her and reaching out, she grasped his wrist blindly.

"Please." Hermione murmured, her hand moving steadily up his arm, hearing his breath catch. She slowed her movement, peaking at him through lowered lashes. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, a look of pain stretched across his pale features. "Stay." She thought his unease stemmed from who she was, but this wasn't the moment to dwell upon such things. He nodded curtly; unaware she could see him, his lips moving without sound. Hermione realised she had never really looked at Draco Malfoy before without malice. She found herself studying him. Hermione refused to allow her fingers to wander across his unclad chest. 'He doesn't want to be closer to me than necessary. He'd bolt and then I'd be alone.' The thoughts churned in her overactive imagination. She watched his nostrils flare, his silken platinum hair lifting across his forehead as he exhaled. His sunken cheeks with dark smudges under his eyes were a cause for concern, but she was distracted by his lips. Hermione found herself wondering what they would feel like as a blush worked its way up her ashen cheeks. Tentatively she reached out, her confidence wavering, yet she rested her hand against his cheek. Draco drew a shuddered breath, his eyes opening to find hers.

Draco felt a bit off kilter. Hermione Granger was touching him of her own volition, asking him to stay of all things and he couldn't breathe. His skin was on fire. The inner voice in his head was screaming at him to leave, to throw the Mudblood away from him before he betrayed his father further, but he wasn't listening. He hadn't listened to that voice in a handful of years. He wasn't about to start now. Draco slowly pulled her hand from his face, yet did not release her trembling fingers. He started slightly when she entwined their fingers, leaning toward him.

"Thank you." She managed to whisper against his ear, her throat significantly raw. She brushed her lips against his cheek before she curled to her right, dragging Draco with her, as she settled herself in bed. She wouldn't let him withdraw his arms from around her. She felt safe. While she knew she couldn't hold onto his moment forever, she needed to feel safe. She whimpered unintentionally when his left arm moved from her. He pulled the coverlet over them, resting his hand on her hip.

"This is bloody uncomfortable. Do people actually sleep like this?" He almost spoke those words, but literally bit his tongue instead. He found himself lifting tendrils of her hair, running them through his fingers before letting them fall. Hermione rolled over, throwing her arm across his waist. He pulled her closer with a sigh. "I could get used to this." His eyes widened at the realization, hoping he hadn't actually spoken. She nodded, her hair tickling his chin.

"Yeah."

Moments later, her breathing had deepened; the grimace disappeared with the relaxing of her body, mind and spirit. Draco felt a moment of surprise when Hermione's right leg casually made its way over his hip, hiking her nightgown almost to her waist. He quickly closed his eyes, pulling the coverlet under her chin. His skin burned everywhere she touched him.

"Yet another feeling. Bill's going to have a bloody field day with this." Draco found his own eyes drooping, pinned as he was, deciding at that moment to just go with it. He brushed some wet strands of sweat soaked hair off her forehead, running his hand down her arm. She fit perfectly in the crook of his arm he noticed, breathing her scent in deeply before he too, succumbed to the slumber lost to them both for too long.


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own Slytherin socks. I do not own Harry Potter which I'm fine with as I'd much rather own Draco Malfoy.**

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**Author's Note: I don't usually do these, but why not eh? Fair warning - this chapter contains mature situations and since I'm a fan of lemony goodness it'll prolly get worse from here. If it offends you...well, don't say I didn't warn you.**

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Chapter 7

"What do ya mean it just stopped? She doesn't stop. She never stops. Gives a bloke a bleeding headache with all that banshee screaming, she does." Ron questioned the wizard behind the front desk of the inn. Ginny, Harry and Bill stood behind him listening intently.

"Sir, I can only tell you what I was told. There was incredible screaming. The likes of which we've never heard, up on the seventh floor." Ginny have Harry a knowing gaze. "There were complaints and before we could go and investigate, it just…stopped." Ron shook his head, shrugging his shoulders, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Ginny, go and see, why don't you?" Ron gestured emphatically. Harry retreated, having no desire to watch another disagreement between siblings. Bill stepped forward, placing a palm on each of their chests.

"I'll do it. Hang on." He inclined his head toward the desk clerk. "Draco Malfoy, his room?" Ron flung his hand off, stalking toward a pair of armchairs. Harry meandered over, sitting next to his oldest friend.

"Can you believe it? My own brother, friends with Malfoy of all people. Ugh. What is the world coming too?" Harry nodded absently. Part of him wanted to be just as angry as Ron, but there wasn't a point in that.

He spoke to Malfoy. Sure, he didn't have an in-depth conversation or anything, but the animosity, ever so present in all their years of Hogwarts, even after the Battle, was gone. Whoever Draco Malfoy was now, he was not the detestable wanker they once knew. Knowing Ron, it was going to take him much longer to come to his realization an anything Harry said was only going to fuel his fire. He found himself cringing, watching Ron carefully. He exhaled, bracing himself when Ron leapt from his seat.

"Did you say 709? But…but…Hermione is in 707." Ginny rolled her eyes, slapping the back of her brother's head.

"Oh who CARES Ron? It's an inn. There's a week's worth of events for the Victory celebrations. Does it really matter?" Ginny was already headed for the staircase.

"Yeah, I know, but…that means…they share a bath…" Ginny's eyes widened, flicking toward Harry. He understood. It was Ginny-code for 'keep Ron down here'. Ron wasn't known for his intellect. Rash, angry decisions on the other hand, absolutely.

"Ron, let's just go on over to the pub. I'm sure Ginny and Bill will be along straight away." Ron nodded slowly, the promise of a pint drawing him slowly out the door. Ginny and Bill exhaled together, taking the stairs as quickly as Ginny's heels would allow.

"You saw them right? At the gala? I mean, what was all that about, Bill? He's your friend…" Ginny jabbed her eldest brother in the ribs, slowing their ascent.

"Hey, don't abuse me." Bill rubbed his ribs, sort of thankful she hadn't hexed him. "Yeah, alright, he's my friend. He's one of my best mates."

"I don't understand…" Ginny's red hair swung in his face when they turned the corner. Bill clenched her elbow. Ginny turned to face him impatiently.

"No, you don't understand. He visits me every month. When the moon is full and I start feeling…ways I don't want to be feeling? He's there. Draco Malfoy might have been a spoiled git, but that person? The person you're all so intent to hate? He died during the Battle of Hogwarts, just like…well, just like Fred." Ginny winced. It was still and probably would always remain a painful memory. "Harry had Voldemort in his head for years and you loved him anyway. No one thought anything about it; it was just part of who he was. Well, Draco might not have had Voldemort in his head, but he had him just the same. In his home, no less. He had his aunt hexing him, cursing him, training him they called it, but we'd call it torture. And when it came down to it? When he could have just let Voldemort win, he lied. He saved Hermione's life. And Harry's and Ron's for that matter too, insipid, whining, little sop he is currently. So if it weren't for Draco Malfoy? Your husband would be dead. Your son wouldn't exist. So maybe, just maybe, cut the guy a break." Bill found himself furious. He released Ginny's arm, almost sorry when he saw how red it was. It wasn't often he allowed the anger, the rage, the downright fury to bubble right to the surface, but Bill had had enough. Ginny nodded curtly.

"Alright then." She continued toward Hermione and Draco's floor without another word.

A few moments later, they were standing before Hermione's door, deciding silently to do this together. Ginny knocked lightly. There was no answer. Bill tried the door. It was locked.

"Alohomora." Ginny whispered, the door instantly opening. They saw the candles blazing, almost burned down to the nub and two occupants on Hermione's bed. Ginny and Bill looked at each other, shaking their heads slowly. They stepped inside the room, standing at the foot of the bed after a few steps.

"Are they…are they…sleeping?" Bill covered Ginny's mouth quickly, listening to the slow raise of her voice. They studied the entwined limbs, as Bill dragged his sister back to the doorway.

"Ginny. Ginny, calm down. They're sleeping. Draco hasn't slept in..in.." He paused for a moment to think. "Come to think of it, I don't know the last time Draco slept. I don't think I've ever really seen him sleep." Ginny nodded. Bill cringed, sliding his hand off her face.

"Hermione doesn't sleep. She lives off draughts. Whenever she tries or..even accidentally…" Bill nodded slowly.

"The screams." He finished for her. He found himself stealing glances at their forms. Hermione shifted in her sleep, pulling Draco closer to her still form. One of her hands was lost in her mass of curls, and if Bill was a betting man, he would swear there was a…

"Is he smiling?" Ginny asked, poking his ribs. This was too intimate, even for Bill. He pulled the door shut ending their perusal of something they couldn't understand.

"Ron is going to flip. You understand this?" Bill tied his long red hair back with a piece of twine from his pocket as they returned to the foyer.

"Ron doesn't have the right. He deserted her. If he had done what Malfoy's doing right now, we wouldn't have to worry about telling Ron anything at all. Stupid git." Bill was surprised, if he was being honest with himself. He never thought he'd see the day where Ginny gave upon the idea of Hermione and Ron's happily ever after.

"Well?" Ron stood with his arms crossed, angry and impatient. Some people really don't change all that much. Ginny rolled her brown eyes.

"Thought you went to the pub with Harry? Anyway, she's in for the night." She brushed passed her brother, fully intending to meet her husband.

"Did you…did you tell her…I wanted her to come?" Ron spoke quietly, but the implication was there. He didn't want Hermione, not really, but he didn't want Malfoy to have her either.

"No, Ron, I didn't. You gave her up. I'm not helping you fix the mess you made. Besides, isn't Astoria waiting for you? Greedy wanker. Let's go. Bill, love you, see you soon. Give Fleur my love." With a wave, she was gone. Ron gaped after her.

"Bill, you didn't tell her?! You're my brother." Ron fumed, anything but silent.

"Hermione's family, Ron. Regardless of what you've done or haven't done, she'll always be family and right now? The last thing she needs…is you." With a wave of his wand, Bill Disapparated, leaving Ron to stand in the inn's foyer…angry and alone.

* * *

"We shouldn't be doing this." Draco Malfoy whispered against Hermione's temple, feeling the shift in her. Her eyes unwillingly opened, determined to keep her gaze on his chest instead of his lips, which were calling her.

"We're not doing anything. We're sleeping. There's no law against that." She struggled to formulate the words as his hand rubbed small circles on her lower back. Draco didn't want to leave, he supposed he was being gentlemanly by offering her a way out.

"Yes, but you're Granger. I'm Malfoy…" He didn't have anything more than that to say, thinking that was plenty. Hermione sighed.

"We're not spiteful children at Hogwarts anymore, Malfoy. We've been through hell. We've been through war. Who cares what sort of ridiculous categories other believe we should all manage to fit into? Have a bit of courage." Draco Malfoy smirked, feeling a bit of delight with her spark of ire.

"I'm Slytherin, Granger." He pushed her just a bit more, for his personal enjoyment.

"Fine, be devious and a wanker. As long as I can sleep without screaming, I don't care if you're Voldemort. No, I take that back, don't be Voldemort." Hermione gripped the corner of the sheet, watching her knuckles turn from red to white, determined not to lose her temper and her newfound sleeping partner.

"Granger prefers her bed partners alive. Good to know." He stifled a snort, before her hand slapped his thigh. Hermione pushed against his chest, her jaw clenched tightly.

"Why must you be so bloody infuriating?" Instead of answering her with another quip, he stared at her lips, wondering how they would taste. Before he could talk himself out of it, he dipped his head, pressing his lips against hers.

Hermione froze. Never in her wildest imagination had she ever thought Draco Malfoy would be in her bed, his solid form pressed against hers. Never had she imagined his lips on hers, nor how incredibly soft they would be. She felt his arms shift slightly, a hand grasping the back of her neck, pulling her closer as the other rested on her waist. Hermione found herself responding to the sensual feather light kisses, her lips parting slowly while Draco's breath softly groaned into her. His fingers drew intimate circles on her hips, brushing her thighs lightly and she stiffened.

Draco felt her passion waning, her fear rising to the surface, but he couldn't let her go, not yet. With a gentle tug, he dragged Hermione on top of him, refusing to interrupt their kisses. She started, pushing against his chest lightly, turning her head from his lips. He shook his head, letting his lips blaze a trail down her neck, nibbling her earlobe. She gasped feeling him drag her thighs forward, as he slowly sat up against the headboard. Hermione found herself wrapped intimately around Draco Malfoy. His eyes were closed, his breathing slightly erratic as his lips never stopped moving. His hands grasped the backs of her thighs, keeping her solidly against him. She pushed against his chest, marveling at the hardness underneath her fingertips. Hermione couldn't catch her breath, she couldn't think with his ministrations. She finally struggled to the surface.

"Mal-Malfoy." She felt his large hands over her knickers, stroking her bare back underneath her nightie.

"Hmmm."

"Malfoy. We can't..you've, oh Merlin!" Hermione lost her train of thought, which didn't happen often, when his hands strayed under her breasts, holding them gently in his hands. She found herself slapping his hands, trying to disengage herself, but he wasn't budging.

"Granger, you think too much." He nipped her bottom lip, seeking entrance as she continued to deny him.

"We can't." Hermione almost reluctantly shoved his hands from her breasts, reveling in the sound of his frustrated groans. Draco stopped kissing her, yet held her face in his hands almost tenderly.

"We can." His stormy grey eyes darkened with what looked like passion. Hermione felt her heart pound in response, still determined to end this madness.

"Malfoy, we have to talk about this." She recognised the shrill quality of fear in her voice, cringing internally. Draco sighed, his hands sliding slowly from her face, to her shoulders, finally ending on her wrists.

"Granger…" Draco Malfoy found himself whining. He couldn't believe it. He had a half naked woman on his lap, seemingly pliant and willing and she wanted to talk? How did these things manage to happen to him?

"You're the one who said we shouldn't be doing this and now you're…you're.."

"Trying to shag you." Lazily he finished her sentence, unconsciously tracing the flush from the crest of her cleavage, watching it redden.

"I'm not going to shag you!" Draco smirked, intently staring at her hardened peaks. Her words were saying no, but her body disagreed. "I don't just go around…doing…that." He watched her breasts rise and fall with her uncomfortable breaths.

"Why not? It's bloody delightful." He leered, his fingers creeping under the ruffled edge of her nightie. Hermione gasped, slapping his hands.

"So you just have a go with anyone then?" Hermione scoffed, finding herself unreasonably angry.

"I'm Draco Malfoy, have we met?" Draco tugged one of her errant curls, intent on distracting her from her incessant babbling.

"Yes, which is precisely why we can't. Why I can't." Once again, she tried to extricate herself from Draco's lap, yet still he resisted her efforts.

"You'd like it, Granger." He nuzzled her neck, inhaling flowers laced with the slightest bit of moisture. "Better than Weasley." He heard the slap before he felt it. She tumbled from his lap, chest heaving, tears prickling the corner of her eyes. Her hair was mussed, her lips swollen and Draco thought she never looked more beautiful.

Hermione leapt from the bed, snagged her dressing gown before rushing into the corridor. She slammed the door behind her, willing Draco not to follow her.

"Think. Think." Hermione pulled her wand form the pocket of her dressing gown, turned over her shoulder and Apparated.

* * *

"Hermione! What on earth?! Come in, before you catch your death." Ginny Potter pulled her wrapper tightly across her chest, shivering slightly from the chill in the air. She dragged Hermione Granger through the front door of her home in Godric's Hollow, grateful Harry and James slept through the incessant pounding.

"Ginny, sorry, it's late. I just…" Hermione gasped, attempting to catch her breath from her hurried exit, instead bursting into tears.

"Is it Ron? I'll KILL him!" Ginny's hand instinctively covered her mouth, cringing. She led her friend to the battered sofa in front of the waning fire, throwing a patchwork quilt over her shoulders.

"No, not Ron." Hermione sniffled, blowing her nose noisily in the offered handkerchief. Ginny's inner Molly scurried about the quaint home, gathering mismatched tea cups and a flowered pot. She laid the ensemble on the dark wood table before them.

"Spill it, Granger." Ginny poured two cups of steaming tea, offering a biscuit which was declined by a shaky Hermione.

"Malfoy…he…" Hermione's voice was low yet Ginny's eyes narrowed at the uncharacteristic tremor.

"He…WHAT? DID HE HURT YOU? I'LL…" Ginny's face reddened as the anger coursed through her.

"Ginny? What's about, love?" Harry's sleepy voice echoed down the narrow staircase, interrupting her tirade.

"Nothing, dear, just a spot of tea with Hermione, go back to bed." Hermione snorted at the incredibly sweet quality her friend's words had taken. "The ferret did what exactly?" Ginny hissed, leaning close.

"He…he kissed me." Ginny rolled her eyes, exhaling in a huff.

"You woke me up for that? Honestly Hermione, sometimes I wonder about you."

"I'm sorry, I just…" Hermione lifted the delicate china cup with trembling fingers, taking a sip of the scalding liquid.

"Oi, Hermione. If anyone needs a good shag, it's you." Ginny continued, ignoring the protestation. "You think too much. I'm sure it's been quite a long time, considering the wicked mess you've been but…"

"Forever. It's been forever, since I've never…" Hermione watched the flames dance in the fireplace, a sense of calm encompassing her. She flinched as the china cup in Ginny's hands tumbled to the floor, shattering.

"Never? Not Viktor Krum? Not Ron?" Ginny flounced onto the sofa, her thin arm covering her eyes. Hermione seized her cup as it it were a lifeline.

"Viktor and I, we snogged but I never wanted to go further than that. Ron wanted to, all the time, and I just, honestly? He's like my brother and I love him. I love him dearly just, not in that way. I never felt…anything really when he kissed me but with…it was different." Ginny slapped her hand onto the sofa, disgruntled and almost a bit hurt to hear Hermione's confession. She always thought it would be Hermione and Ron at the end of the day. She wasn't keen on the idea of her dreams going up in smoke, but she realised, she wasn't being fair.

"Hermione, I can't say I'm a big fan of the git. He's always been a bit of a pompous prat but…"

"He's a right cheeky bastard. He just assumed I would just have a go! After everything he's done!" Hermione didn't bother to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"Ugh, Hermione, you might be the smartest witch of your age, but you're gormless."

"Ginny! I am not clueless! I'm simply pointing out the facts!" Hermione strangled a biscuit, finding both hands covered in moist crumbs.

"Hermione, Malfoy called you a Mudblood. You punched his face. Harry attacked him in the girls' lavatory. Malfoy lied to, well, everyone for you. He got you out of the Victory Day Gala. He stopped your screams, which quite honestly no one's ever been able to do. Yes, fine, he was a Death Eater, but he's the only Death Eater in the history with a bloody conscience and I simply hate you! I'm defending Draco sodding Malfoy!" Ginny stamped her foot angrily, her red hair bouncing in the fire light, her blue eyes softening as she observed Hermione's features twist into their predictable thinking pattern. Her bottom lip was firmly clenched between her teeth, her fingers twirling curls, her brows furrowed, just as Hermione Granger had always been.

"Ginny, I'm knackered." She didn't have it in her to argue with Ginny, knowing her friend was on point. Hermione's eyes started to close as she drew the quilt up to her chin.

"Oh no, Hermione, I love you, you know I love you but you can't sleep here. You'll wake James and there'll be hell to pay. You've got to go back." Ginny pulled Hermione from the sofa, shoving her outside with a quick kiss on the cheek.

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Draco Malfoy still couldn't believe Hermione had disappeared. He assumed she Disapparated, since he had scoured the inn for her. In retrospect, he realised he had been unkind. It wasn't like him to feel a pang of regret.

"Malfoys do not apologise. Malfoys do not regret anything." He ranted to the walls, while pacing in his own room. He was inexplicably drawn to the petite Gryffindor and it was maddening. His room felt confining and Draco Malfoy didn't like to be confined. He threw open the lavatory door, stalked across the tile, slammed Hermione's door into the wall and paced the entire length of their rooms.

"What was I thinking? Almost shagging Granger, she's Granger! She hates me. I hate her. At least, we're supposed to hate each other. That's what we do. She's a know it all and I'm an arrogant bastard. Though, everything I say is true. Except the Mudblood part. That's not…well it's true and it's not simply because it doesn't really matter, does it?" His hands clasped behind his neck in the middle of Hermione's room. He stared at the ceiling, muddled thoughts coursing through him. Closing his eyes, he groaned at the blank canvas.

He never heard her enter.

"What are you doing?" Hermione's lilting voice interrupted his musings. He refused to be caught in the alluring trance of her luscious lips. He started walking, his fists clenched at his side.

"Pacing." Draco knew she was hovering near him, he could feel her curls brush passed his arm. He wanted to slam the doors, confining himself to his own room, yet he couldn't do it.

"It's late Malfoy, why aren't you sleeping?" Hermione decided her best course of action was to simply ignore what had occurred between them. She laid her wrapper on the foot of the bed before climbing under the covers. She lazily watched him walk to and fro.

"I don't sleep." She saw the light sheen of sweat on his chiseled chest, his cheeks flushed, his breathing slightly erratic and she instantly understood. He was just as exhausted as she, but he was struggling to keep himself away from whatever demons plagued him.

"I miss sleep." Draco slowed his hurried pace, finding himself standing next to her bed. Her eyes were almost closed, long dark lashes brushing her cheeks.

"Me too." He reached down, tucking a particularly difficult curl behind her ear. It was a compulsion he couldn't ignore. He found himself drawing the coverlet down, climbing in beside her. Lying on his side, Draco didn't touch her, he most definitely did not wish to face her ire. Hermione's hand groped Draco behind her, searching for his wrist. He didn't help her in her endeavors, enjoying the gentleness of her touch. She threaded her fingers through his, drawing his arm around her, clutching it beneath her breasts.

"This is dangerous." He hissed through his teeth when she turned slightly toward him, her hip resting on his thigh.

"Must it always come down to sex?" Drowsy as she was, Hermione found herself perturbed.

"I'm a.."

"Malfoy, yes I'm aware." He swore he could feel her eyes rolling.

"I was going to say man, thank you." He was painfully aware of his forearm across her breasts, part of him wished she would remove it and another screamed at him to stay silent.

"I'm…I'm sorry I left." Her fingers tightened on his, willing him closer. Draco slid an arm under her head, her golden brown hair splaying across his chest. He found himself resting his head on her shoulder, inhaling deeply as she shivered.

"I shouldn't have…said that bit…'bout Weasel." It was the closest to a genuine apology Draco Malfoy had ever been. It wasn't as revolting as he thought it would be.

"Ron…never kissed me like that." Draco wanted to kiss her again after a statement like that, but he didn't wish to push his good fortune. He was in Hermione Granger's bed. She was still wearing the incredible nightie and if he moved his thumb, he knew she would gasp in pleasure. The ideas swirling in his mind were confusing, yet alluring. Hermione gasped when she felt his length against her thigh.

"Malfoy!"

"It's not like I can help it! Blame your damn nightie!" Draco protested, willing his body to obey, but it refused. "Talk about something, anything." Hermione wiggled her hips, trying to get comfortable. She heard a choking sound behind her and frowned.

"Hmm, who was your first kiss?" Hermione scrunched her pillow, yanked him closer still.

"Pansy Parkinson and that would have worked if you hadn't rubbed yourself all over me." Hermione giggled, using the back of his hand to cover her mouth.

"Did you love her?" Draco almost wished he had never asked her to speak.

"Cor, no, absolutely not. I'm never going to have another erection as long as I live. Thanks, Granger." Hermione found herself stroking the back of his hand, amazed by the silky feel. "Alright, I lied. This is not working." Draco carried on, intent on ignoring the feel of her.

"Why did you kiss her then?" She pecked the back of his hand, rubbing it on her cheek.

"If I'm being completely accurate, I did not kiss her. She assaulted me. Fourth year, just outside the Great Hall, I was simply trying to breathe."

"Viktor Krum was a bit like that. Remember him? He took me…"

"Granger, I swear, if you mention the Yule Ball, I will not be held accountable for my actions."


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I own my house. I own my car. I own my socks and also cake. I am the sole owner of cake. However, I do not own these characters *le sigh* but the plot? Yeah, that's mine.**

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**AN: I _warned_ you the mature content would continue...tada.  
****Also, there quite possibly could be errors. If I missed them, well the world won't implode.  
Last but definitely not least - thank you thank you oh lovely reviewers. You guys rock.**

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Chapter 8

"Have you ever been in love?" Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer; she simply wanted to hear his voice. She liked how relaxed he sounded, as if he were almost letting down his guards.

"No."

"Not ever? Never even thought you might be?" Now she was intrigued.

"No. When you grow up with a man like my father, you learn quickly it's better not to have attachments if it can be helped. What about you now?"

"What about me?" Hermione shivered from the chill in the air, smiling slightly when Draco pulled the coverlet up her shoulder.

"You've asked me. Fair is fair, Granger."

"Fine. Viktor Krum was my first kiss, obviously."

"Obviously? Everyone thought you were snogging Potter and the Weasel long before Krum showed up." Hermione bit Draco's thumb knuckle in irritation, oblivious to the effect she was having on him.

"Ugh, no, definitely not."

"You snogged Weasel, don't lie." Draco bit back the laughter threatening to explode from him.

"Yes fine! I kissed Ron. You've snogged half of Hogwarts!"

"More than half I'd wager."

"Yet you've never been in love. Ridiculous." Hermione huffed.

"Have you?" Vaguely he wondered if he was pushing too far, but decided it was worth the risk.

"No, actually, I haven't. I thought maybe for a bit that I could love Ron or would grow to love him but honestly? As much as he wanted more, I always thought we'd be better as friends."

"He never appreciated you. You were never in his league." Draco bit his lip, begging the words to climb back into his mouth. Instead, Hermione's lips found his, lightly, sweetly, softly.

"That was sweet. I didn't know you could be sweet." Her hair tickled his chest while she leaned over him, waiting for his eyes to open.

"Granger, we're going to be exactly where we were before you bolted. Stop staring at me." Hermione's fingertips ran across his forehead, her thumb fluttering against his eyelids, down his cheeks until finally, she brushed his lips. Draco found himself slightly disturbed. It was entirely too intimate for his taste, completely unfamiliar territory. Delicacy was never on his agenda. He felt things, deep within him and he was unsure. Draco Malfoy was unsure. His father would curse it out of him. He could never speak of such things.

"I've never really looked at you before." The wonder in her voice almost compelled Draco to gaze upon her, yet he resisted with difficulty. He felt the weight of her head against his shoulder, her hair smothering him in the feminine smell of her. Hermione drew figure eights with her fingertip down his chest and ribs.

"Granger, stop." She stared in amazement while his muscles contracted, his jaw clenched, air hissing between his teeth. She'd never seen anyone react to her this way.

"I used to hear your voice in my nightmares." She started, her hand flat on his abdomen. "I didn't know it was yours. Why did you…" Draco seized her hand, applying light pressure. He sighed heavily.

"Voldemort was living in my house you know. He ruled over us like we were nothing more than house-elves. My father being the right bastard he is just…he just handed over everything. He handed me over, like I wasn't his only son. My mother…she…" Draco paused, determined to keep his composure.

"You don't have too."

"I do. My mother used to beg Father to stop. He was too far gone, he still is, frankly. She didn't want me to be a Death Eater anymore than I wanted to be one. When Greyback and his Snatchers brought you lot to the Manor, I just, I couldn't do…nothing. I'd spent my life doing nothing. I'd spent it just following my father's demands and I hated it. My aunt told me I could be my own person, but she only meant it as far as serving The Dark Lord. That's bollocks really. I can be whoever as long as I do what you want? Didn't much fancy that idea. When Bellatrix asked me if it was Potter, I lied. As much as I dislike the tosser, I didn't want to see anyone else die. I didn't want to see you like that, even if I was the one calling you Mudblood." Hermione propped herself on his chest, her breasts pressed against his side, searching his face, willing the distress to dissipate.

"Malfoy." Draco had never thought his name could sound like a sensual sigh.

"Aunt Bellatrix used to torture me. No one but Bill knows that, besides my parents, but they've refused to call it anything other than character building. When I saw you, I couldn't do anything. I was bloody terrified. I was a bit of a coward. My mother was dragging me out of the hall and I had to tell you. I know it wasn't my fault, but it was the first time in my pathetic life I actually felt badly. I felt awful, for the person I used to hate." Draco punched the mattress, seething.

"Used to hate?" Hermione flopped onto her back, folding her hands upon her abdomen, stray tendrils of her golden brown curls landing in his mouth.

"Granger, must you be obtuse? Yes, I used to bloody despise your know-it-all, best me in every blasted class, bushy haired, downright obnoxious Muggle-born self. I hated Potter more, Weasel too for that matter. Saint Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived. You haven't the faintest how my father berated me for being bested by you. Begrudgingly, I had to accept you weren't particularly horrid, even if you did punch me." Draco found himself smiling in spite of himself.

"You bloody deserved it! It was your fault Buckbeak was to be executed!"

"The manky beast attacked me! Besides, my father used his position with the Minister; I had nothing to do with it."

"When did you stop?" Hermione found herself genuinely curious, even enjoying the company of the man beside her. He mumbled something she didn't manage to catch. Draco cleared his throat.

"Fourth year." He was embarrassed, which coincidentally enough was also not a Malfoy quality.

"You never said…" Hermione's brows furrowed, recalling the fourth year she spent at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"I bloody well couldn't, could I? You and Potter and Weasel were always bloody together, even in the blasted library. They would have cursed me. I still hated them. Could you imagine? Hello, girl I used to call Mudblood. Sorry about that, just thought I could speak to you for a spell. Well, I've realised you're not as vile as I thought and I sort of fancy you a bit. Alright then, goodbye." Draco shrunk away from the incessant beating on his person. "Ow! Stop it!" He captured her hands easily, finally opening his eyes, taking in the flush upon Hermione's cheeks.

"You fancied me?" It was such a foreign concept to her. She had never considered the idea of anyone fancying her, not really. She thought her hair was untamable and unattractive. She considered herself entirely too bookish for anyone to take seriously. Draco dragged his silver daggers from her lips to her widened eyes.

"Doesn't matter." The minutely husky quality to his whisper sent a shiver down her spine.

"It does, Malfoy, it.." Without restraint he attacked her with a fervor, his mouth covering hers. It wasn't a soft delicate kiss, it was born in passion and need, his mouth slanting over hers, his hands dragging through her hair to grasp her neck. Hermione found herself responding, her tongue meeting his, her hands swirling in his silky tendrils. She found herself on her back, Draco half on top her, his chest pressing against hers. Hermione's nightgown bunched around her neck, the slight chill in the air alerting her to her semi-nudity. She couldn't think, nor did she want too. She was gasping for breath, his fingers kneading her breast. Hermione's nails raked down his back, bringing him out of his haze. Abruptly, he wrenched away from her, breathing heavily. With a shaky breath, he dragged her nightie down over her hips.

"What's wrong?" Hermione barely recognised her own voice nor the words which streamed from it. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Not like this, Granger." He wanted to curse himself. He never bothered to think about such things before. He was always the one cajoling, enticing women into his bed, but that was before. Draco Malfoy hadn't engaged in such behaviours since the demise of the Dark Lord. He didn't want her to believe he spilled his secrets for a simple shag.

Hermione ached with a need she didn't completely understand. She understood the basic mechanics of course. Ginny had a tendency to share entirely too many details of her intimate relationship with Harry, yet it never ventured into a primal response. She drew the stark sheet over her, wanting to reach for him.

"Stay with me?" Her fingertips brushed his lower back innocently. Without a word, Draco Malfoy flounced back upon the bed, landing on his side before roughly gripping her warm body against his chest. He adjusted the pillows, covering them in blankets before wrapping his arm around her midsection, resting his palm above her navel. She sighed deeply, pressing her back into him.

* * *

Draco Malfoy thought he felt sunlight poking his eyelids, but that wasn't what was troubling him. He felt a soft body against him. It must be a dream. On the other hand, dreaming requires sleep and Draco Malfoy most definitely did not sleep and yet, his eyes closed succumbing to slumber anyway. His sleeping form pulled the warm body closer, reveling in the feel of humanity.

Hermione Granger squinted in the morning light, tensing as she felt warm breath against her neck. It took another moment for her to sense the hard body behind her. She looked down to see a hand, a large hand for that matter, underneath her nightie encircling her breast. She found herself pinned, her hair trapped beneath his head. She tried to ease herself away, so she could piece together the happenings from the previous evening, but he wouldn't budge. Whenever she shifted, he shifted with her, his thumb drawing intimate circles on rosy peaks. She managed to shift slightly onto her back, vacillating between waking him or simply extricating herself. One of her arms was trapped between their bodies, resting on his taut stomach muscles.

"This is ridiculous." She wanted to be angrier than she was. She wanted to shove him away from her, this was Malfoy after-all, but then she remembered. She remembered her eyes drooping shut. She remembered the screams, the primal banshee screams she couldn't make cease. She remembered his comfort. She remembered their kisses.

"Shhh." He whispered against her forehead, his hand leaving her breast, travelling across her stomach, stopping at her hip. Hermione realised she was holding her breath. Her arms were covered in gooseflesh, which was slightly disconcerting for her. In all her years with Ron, he never elicited such a response. Then again, he never fell asleep with his hand up her nightgown either.

"Malfoy." Hermione tried using her voice. It was still incredibly hoarse, but a simple draught could fix it, if he would move. He was unwilling to release her. He squeezed her breast gently.

"Shhh." He repeated, "Sleep, it's alright. You're alright." He was mumbling these words, repeating them like a mantra as he rolled toward her, sliding down her body before resting his blond head on her other breast. Hermione realised these were the words which were instrumental in calming her hysteria. She studied his face as he slept, brushing his white blond hair off his forehead. Maybe he was right. She was exhausted. Sleep wasn't the worst idea in the world, though the compromising position brought a flush to her cheeks. She gasped when he ran his knuckles down the full length of her body, dragging her knee over his waist. She closed her eyes, running her fingers through Draco Malfoy's hair.

He was having a wonderful dream. A warm, willing, beautiful witch was lying beneath him, arching her back into his face. He toyed with a taut peak between his lips. Her hand tightened in his hair, pulling slightly. He groaned into her, re-positioning himself on top of her. His lips left feather light kisses along her collarbone, the sides of her face, finally her lips. Soft, sweet lips, opening for him, allowing him entrance. He slid a knee between her legs, hooked a thumb into the waistband of her knickers and slid them down her thighs. He paused for a millisecond when he felt her body stiffen, but this was his dream. Anything was possible when dreaming, at least that's what his mother had always said.

He ran his fingers along her inner thigh, finding what he was seeking when moisture spread across his fingertips. Gently, he probed within her folds, her hips moved slowly in rhythm with him, her whimpers music to his ears. He couldn't get enough of her. Perhaps his mother was right after all.

Hermione woke clutching Malfoy's shoulders, shuddering, nearly convulsing beneath him. Her eyes wide, cheeks flushed, her body betraying her mind. Her skin was on fire, her lips swollen, her extremities tingling with that could only be described as ecstasy. She squeaked when Malfoy tossed his underclothes away, pulling her body down, spreading her legs. She was having great difficulty formulating coherent thought. Hermione licked her lips, touching his face, her mouth open and he devoured it before a word escaped. When she was able to come up for air, she tried again.

"Malfoy." Her voice a hoarse whisper against the side of his face. She pushed his chest, gasping when he caught her hands in one of his, raising them over her head. "Malfoy." She tried again, slightly louder this time, feeling nervous as he positioned himself between her legs. His hands never stopped moving, running up and down her naked body. He touched her again, slow yet frenzied circles, making her body arch in response.

"Merlin's beard, Malfoy." When he caught her lips with his own, she bit him. It really was the only thing she could think of doing, her voice wasn't strong enough to scare an insect, let alone Malfoy. His eyes opened slowly, almost unwillingly. "Malfoy, you've…you've…you've got to stop." Hermione panted, even as she clutched his shoulders. She could feel him, pressing against her.

"I'm not ready to wake up." He mumbled against her neck, slowly pressing against her entrance. She gasped, instinctively clenching every muscle in her body. "Relax; I'm not going to hurt you." He laid kisses along her jugular, yanking her curls back with a practiced fist.

"Malfoy." Hermione begged, with a trace of desperation in her voice. "Please." She couldn't find the words. This wasn't how she imagined losing her virginity would be at all, but did it matter now? Draco Malfoy shook his head, seeing her glistening eyes, her pliant body beneath him.

"Granger." He gasped, "Don't. Move." Hermione felt herself relax in the knowledge he was finally awake. She loosened her grip on his shoulders. "I said, don't move." She felt a certain level of relief, uncertain she would be able to wake him.

"I'm sorry." Feeling her against him, his chest pressed tightly against her breasts, her hands touching him, it was impossible to think of anything else. He closed his eyes, trying to determine the best way to disentangle himself.

"I've never…I've never…done this…before." Hermione's small voice broke the tense silence. His grey eyes bored into her, searching her for truth.

"Really?" She heard the surprise. She was almost used to it at this point in her life. "Do you…want me to stop?" Hermione's mouth dropped open. She never thought he would respond like that. She took a moment, battling within herself. It was torture for him to wait, silently. His arms were shaking, attempting to maintain control. Draco knew he would stop if she wished it, yet he knew he wanted her. Not some random dream woman, her.

"Yes. No. I don't…know." She was confused. Draco Malfoy was in a quandary. He caught her lips between his own, tightening the arm wrapped around her waist. He lowered her back onto her pillow, never breaking eye contact. She responded slowly at first, yet as he deepened the kiss, her eyes closed with a sigh.

"No." He felt. That was extraordinary in and of itself, but Draco Malfoy felt a moment of euphoria.

"Look at me." Her eyes snapped open, fixing on the grey eyes which used to hold her in contempt. He was shocked by the smoky passion which greeted him. Her skin was aglow with a faint flush, her lips pink and very swollen, her breasts begging for attention. He slid slowly, closing the minimal distance between their bodies. Her eyes widened, whether in fear, pain or excitement he didn't know. Hermione expected there to be more pain than there was. Between Ginny and the other Gryffindor girls, she had heard plenty of horror stories. She didn't expect the burn nor the fiery need growing within her.

He moved slowly, keeping a tight hold on her hips, enjoying the little pants escaping her lips. He didn't know how long he could keep control of himself. He didn't want to hurt her. The blood was pounding in his ears, drowning out everything else, except for her.

He wondered for a moment if this was what Bill had been talking about. If this was how it was supposed to be. He closed his eyes, dragging his palm down Hermione's slick body.

"Look at me." She whispered in awe. He really was quite beautiful. She explored his torso, reveling in the feel of his sculpted physique beneath her fingertips. He groaned as her walls tightened around him. An unfamiliar sensation was building within her. Hermione felt it, starting in her toes, gathering momentum just below her navel. Their lips crashed together, tongues swirling, panting, moaning. Malfoy threw her leg over his back, rocking the bed, listening to her silent gasps of release, before following her over the edge. He collapsed on her chest, her legs wrapped around him, her hands in his hair and for a moment, maybe two, he believes its possible to understand Bill's nonsensical jabbering about happiness.

Shifting, he laid beside her, kissing the nape of her neck.

"Is it…is it always like that?" Hermione sighed with contentment, brushing his hair off his forehead. He kissed the corner of her mouth, willing her to turn.

"No." He hadn't meant to be honest. If his wand was within reach, Draco would have cursed himself.

"Have you done this…a bit then?" Hermione found herself curious once more. She allowed him to momentarily distract her with lip tugging pecks. A few moments later, she was dodging his insistent lips.

"Granger…" Hermione resolutely refused him and he, remembering her stubbornness, groused in frustration. "I'm not going to deny I've been with other women, obviously I have but…" Draco scowled while formulating his thoughts.

"But what?" Draco buries his head in the feather pillow below him. He simply wanted to snog her senseless, not answer questions which made those pesky feelings rise straight to the surface. He didn't want to feel. He'd spent more of his life avoiding it. He could hear Bill's voice in his head, 'Maybe that's the problem, mate'. He bit the encasement, struggling internally.

"None of them were you."


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Once upon a time I borrowed JK Rowling's characters and this is what happened. I'm so glad she shares her toys, even if I wish they were my toys.**

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**AN: My bestie is uber effing slow with her editing and I'm impatient.  
Oh yeah. I'm always unsure of the correct spelling of Ginny's full name. I figure if I can suffer through fic's where the author is determined to use 'Zambini' instead of Zabini...y'all can suffer with a misplaced 'r'. *muah***

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Chapter 9

He slid out from under her intending to return to his room, maybe spend a few moments collecting his thoughts. Draco assumed, following the events of the previous night, Hermione would require some time to over think everything which was said and done.

He was halfway out of the bed, when a firm hand held his wrist. Looking over his shoulder, his heart, if he thought he had one, would be in his throat. The late afternoon sunlight brushed her lower back, making her skin almost glisten. Her hair, wild and completely tangled, tumbled over her shoulders. Her eyes were barely open and yet they were glaring.

"Where do you think you're going?" She complained; her hoarse voice still heavy with sleep. Draco Malfoy found himself speechless. He didn't really have an answer. Hermione crawled across the space between them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing the side of his face. His eyes closed, memorizing the feel of her breasts pressed against his back.

"We've spent the day in bed. I thought, perhaps, it would be best if we…" He lost his train of thought when her lips, teeth even, tugged his earlobe.

"Malfoy, I haven't slept in a year." He twisted suddenly, pulling her into his lap.

"You're not alone there, Granger." She raked her nails down his chest, drawing figure eights across his skin. "You just want me for my body." He scoffed lightly, standing quickly, bouncing her in his arms. She squealed, clutching at his neck while he sauntered into their bath. Before he could reach the handle, a pounding on Hermione's door stopped him cold.

"Oi! Hermione, open up!" Malfoy groaned silently, his forehead resting against hers. Of course Weasley would show up. He honestly expected Hermione to shove him into his own room before throwing her door open wide. He was pleasantly surprised when she groaned.

"Go away Ron! I'm busy!" His eyebrows raised in silent question. She kissed him quickly, blushing.

"Busy?! Doin' what?! C'mon Hermione!" Ron was starting to whine. It was a decidedly unattractive quality. Draco deposited Hermione on the tile, grabbing a clean towel from the counter.

"Draw us a bath, would you love? I'll take care of the problem at the door." He slung the towel low on his hips, and kissed her forehead quickly before shutting their bath door, leaving Hermione's startled face on the other side.

"Weaslebee, she said go away." Draco sighed dramatically; opening the door just enough to give Ron a glimpse of his towel clad form. He smirked as he watched Ron's face go through an instant transformation.

Relief upon the door opening, disbelief upon spying Draco Malfoy on the other side, segued directly into blinding rage. Ron pulled out his wand, pointed it at Malfoy, hissing.

"Crucio." Draco Malfoy barely flinched. His eyes on the other hand, flickered, darkening with a quickly spreading fury. A simple flick of his hand, Ron's wand rumbled down the empty hallway.

"Haven't you learned anything Weasel?" Draco was practically spitting in Ron Weasley's bright red face. "Between the Dark Lord and my maniacal aunt? Pain is a fixture in my life. It'll take more than a Weasley to bring me to my knees." He paused, focusing his energy, allowing the waves of rage to roll over him before dissipating. "Now, be a good boy and go away." Ron stood there stunned before scurrying to retrieve his wand.

* * *

"Have you gone mental?" Ginny was beating Ron upon his head, shoulders, and even his ears weren't off-limits. "Get off! Bill? Harry? George? Somebody! Make her stop!" Harry was the first to step forward. He knew the Weasleys had a strictly hands off policy where his wife was concerned. He captured her hands, pulling her away from her brother, even as she attempted to kick out.

"Ginny. Ginny!" She continued to thrash, taking her frustrations out on Harry. "Ginerva Potter!" She slumped, finally.

"He deserves it, Harry! He went to Hermione's room! After we expressly told him to mind his own business! He's messed up everything!" Ron jumped up, pulling his hideously red striped sweater down over his baggy pants.

"It's already messed up! And not by me! It's Malfoy, that git! You didn't see him!" Ron got a little too close to Ginny, as a kick delivered to his stomach quickly made him retreat.

"Put me down Harry! It wasn't MALFOY who dropped her. It wasn't MALFOY who complained to everyone she holds dear what a nutter YOU think she is. It wasn't MALFOY who gave up on her! That was YOU! That was you, Ronald Billius Weasley. And now, my best friend is gonna wind up a bloody Malfoy and that's ALL YOUR FAULT!" Ginny's voice was so shrill, even Harry winced.

George snagged Ron's ear between his fingers, yanking Ron toward the garden. Bill stood, blocking Ron from Ginny's view. Harry just held her tight, refusing to let her go, knowing exactly where it would lead.

"Ginny, Hermione isn't going to wind up a Malfoy." Harry did his best to calm his still flailing wife. Bill, conspicuously, stayed silent. Ginny finally planted her feet firmly on the ground.

"You don't know that, Harry. You didn't' see them." She sank into the chair Bill pushed forward. Harry found himself at a loss for words.

George had enough of Ron's ranting and using a Silencing Charm on him, leaving him in the garden to rant to himself. He strolled casually into The Burrow, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed.

"So, boys and girls, what's the word on dear ol' Hermione anyway? She really fancy Malfoy?" He refrained from insulting his brother's friend, which Bill appreciated. Bill absently patted his sister's hand, carefully phrasing his words before rendering a reply.

"I've known Draco since the war. I never knew the obnoxious kid he used to be…though!" Bill held up hand, stopping the less than helpful mutterings of George Weasley, "I've heard plenty of stories, but that's all they are to me." His penetrating gaze focused on Harry's, hoping Harry was the most sensible of the bunch. "If someone had come to me and told me about a small orphan boy who could see into Voldemort's mind, I would have been one of the first in line demanding he be locked away." Harry's eyes widened only slightly. He gave Bill an 'I can understand that' sort of shrug. Bill took a big breath before continuing. "Draco Malfoy isn't the same person you knew. I'm so tired of reiterating that to people who refuse to see beyond their own prejudices. None of you are any better than the people we fought against. Instead of being supportive, you're condemning. Ridiculous. He works hand in hand with the Minister for Magic. He forsook his own family.

"In all the years I've known him? I'd never seen him smile before, until last night. So if you'd like to be angry, be angry. If you'd like to turn your back on one of your oldest friends, go right ahead. I won't support you in that. I've seen what a difficult time Hermione has had since the Final Battle. You lot might have been blind to it, but I saw it. I saw it. We all have our inner battles. It's not your decision to decide how we should adjust to our new lives. Our lives are not yours. We don't have to uphold your standards. At the end of the day, the only person we have to be happy with is the one that looks back at us in the mirror." Bill slammed his fist onto the worn wooden table in the kitchen of The Burrow.

"Well said, Bill, well said." Arthur Weasley was leaning casually against the wall, taking in the scene around him. "Now uhm, would someone mind removing the Silencing Charm on Ron? He looks a bit mental." He gave them a wave, venturing back to wherever he came.

* * *

A bath was exactly what she needed. Hermione closed her eyes, resting her head against the edge of the tub. She heard muffled, angry words, perhaps even a spell being shot off, but refused to leave the soothing steamy water. A few moments later, she felt the breeze of the door opening, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

"Granger." She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze as he dropped the towel, her cheeks reddening considerably. "Make room." Draco finger combed his hair out of his face while climbing into the sunken tub. His arm snaked around Hermione's waist, drawing her against him.

"Oh, what am I doing?" Hermione murmured, her voice scratchy and raw.

"You're taking a bath." He nuzzled her neck, inhaling her scent.

"You know what I mean, Malfoy." She couldn't make herself call him Draco, not yet. He pretended to think for a moment.

"Let's see, we found ourselves at an abysmal soiree last night, which led to loads of shaking and screaming." He paused, wiping the suds down her arms, "Apparently we found ourselves a slumber, which of course led to you trying something new and deciding you quite liked it. A nap was in order, no question about that. A ridiculous argument with the Weasel, where he decided a Cruciatus Curse was the best course of action, which leads us to now; in a delectable bath, filling myself with the scent of Granger, wondering how I'm ever going to get her out of my head." Draco nodded succinctly. Hermione spun around, splashing water out of the tub. "Granger prefers her bath water on the floor…" he drawled.

"Ron did what?" Was that actual concern? Draco Malfoy couldn't remember the last time he saw concern on the face of a woman whom wasn't his mother.

"Don't." The single word was strangled with pain. "Don't look at me like that, Granger." He hid his grey eyes from her probing stare.

"Like what?" Her hands stroked his shoulders. He could feel her wide brown eyes boring holes into his eyelids, almost willing him to look at her. "Like I'm concerned? Heaven forbid someone shows they care, is that it Malfoy?" She pressed forward, kissing each of his lids gently.

"Not about me. Don't. It's safer that way." Hermione held Draco's face in her hands, gently kissing the angst from him.

"Maybe I'm tired of safe." She whispered, running her fingers down the front of his body. Draco searched her face, looking for a sliver of doubt. He found none. He growled, leading them once again, into the throws of passion.


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Everybody wants to rule the world. I don't. I'd rather own Harry Potter, which is sort of like ruling the world. I always did have high expectations. Sadly, I own nothing, cept the plot. Go me.**

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**AN: Unedited madness once more. Lazy...lazy bestie. Forgive me.  
Shout out to mah every chapter reviewer - .16 - much love!  
This chapter is a shortie cuz...we'll you'll see.  
Stop reading this now...3 you guys.**

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Chapter 10

"You didn't see his face, Bill. It was like…like he enjoyed it." Ron kicked a garden gnome on their way back to The Burrow. Bill's forehead creased in concentration.

"Ron, you're conveniently skipping the spell you threw at him." He shoved his youngest brother, causing him to trip over his own feet. Ron's neck reddened and Bill easily recognised the tell tale signs of guilt.

"Listen, you can't…you can't tell Harry. You can't tell anyone." Ron rubbed the back of his neck, wiping the sweat onto his wrinkled brown pants.

"What did you do?" A tic jumped on Bill's cheek.

"It's Malfoy. He was being…ya know…Malfoy and I just…" He looked at the sky, wondering why the clouds were shaped the way they were. Why couldn't they be birds or brooms? Bill snapped his fingers.

"And?"

"Well, I sort of…I kind of…I used the Cruciatus." Ron winced, expecting Bill to blast him into oblivion. Instead, he was greeted with pensive silence.

"Yeah, I've done that. He just…sort of winces and gets quite furious. You shouldn't have done that." Ron grabbed his brother's lapel.

"You've used an Unforgivable on Malfoy and…you left him there? With Hermione?!" He shook Bill a bit until Bill broke out in raucous laughter.

"Of course I have. He asked me too!" Ron stopped, mid-shake, stunned. "It was an experiment of sorts. But really, you shouldn't have. I'm surprised you're still standing."

"See!" Ron stomped through the tall grass. "He's dangerous. That's not normal. Maybe I should tell Harry."

"Sure, go right ahead. I'm not visiting you in Azkaban." Bill slipped into the house, hoping this was the end of the conversation. He was pleasantly surprised to find his parents, deep in conversation at the worn wooden table.

"Did you send her an owl? I'm sure she's gotten plenty. Him too for that matter." Molly Weasley muttered to her husband. Arthur Weasley held his head in his hands, The Daily Prophet between his elbows. Bill glanced at the front page, grunting.

"Oh, hello Bill. Have you…have you seen?" Molly gestured to the seat next to her. Bill took it, nodding slowly.

"I was there, Dad. I don't need The Daily Prophet to tell me what's what."

"Our Hermione? With the likes of Draco Malfoy? Is this really what went on at the Victory Gala?" Molly shuddered. Bill grabbed the paper, scanning it quickly.

"No, Mum. They were not…'completely besotted with each other, spending the evening staring into each other's eyes'. You should know better than to believe a quarter of what Rita Skeeter has to say." His parents patiently waited for him to continue. With a roll of his eyes and a sigh, "It was more like…two people connecting…because of a deep ridden, long hidden…scar." It really was the best he could come with on such short notice.

"Scar? What sort of scar?" Molly leapt from the table, prepared to Apparate directly to Hermione to sort out the entire mess.

"He's being metaphorical, Molly." Arthur chuckled quietly. He was used to the dramatics and mother hen instincts of his wife.

"Oh, I see. Well, Ron must be absolutely devastated. How could she do this to him?" she rung a damp tea towel in her hands.

"Mum, Ron and Hermione haven't been…together…in quite some time. Didn't Ron tell you? He went to the gala with Astoria Greengrass…" Arthur was wildly waving his hands in warning behind his wife's head. Bill backed away slowly as Molly advanced on her first born child.

"When. Did. That. Happen." Her voice was low and slow, which was more terrifying than bellows.

"Uhm, oh, half a year ago? Something like that…I don't…know all…the details exactly…ask…ask Ron! Look! Here he is!" Bill whipped around, fleeing out the back door and past the garden, Disapparating to parts unknown, but far from the wrath of Molly Weasley.

* * *

She was lying on her stomach, head resting on the crook of her arm, sheets bunched around her waist, eyes closed, dangling on the edge of slumber. He was tracing her scar, the light silvery strands crisscrossing down her back, so very like his own. She giggled sleepily when he grazed her ribs.

"No, don't." She wheezed, her voice stronger than this morning. "Stop!"

"Stop what? Stop this?" Draco smiled, teasing her ticklish points.

"I mean it Ron! Stop it!" She sounded angry. He withdrew his hands slowly, rolling onto his back, staring at the bland ceiling, trying to decide if her slip of the tongue should hurt his feelings or not. It would probably hurt someone else's feelings, but he still wasn't sure he had them.

"Oh no, Malfoy, I didn't mean…" He waved his hand.

"No matter." There was a pang. Unfamiliar. It didn't hurt necessarily, but it didn't feel particularly good either.

"It's just…you were annoying me and well…"

"I was channeling the Weasel, fantastic." His voice was devoid of any emotion at all. He smirked. He let her tug his arm out from under his head. He felt a sort of enjoyment when her hair spread across him, the weight of her head on his chest.

"You're not him. I don't want you to be." Hermione Granger laid still, listening to the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her head.

"Good. Whatever did you see in him, Granger?" He was honestly curious. Another emotion of sorts he was, as of yet, unfamiliar. She propped herself on his chest, studying the curve of his mouth.

"Oh, I don't know. He was always sort of…annoying, but he made me laugh as much as he infuriated me. We were always better off as friends. I never really…considered there being anything more between us until the Yule Ball, in fourth year…remember it?" He snorted.

"Of course I remember it. I was there. First time you ever got that mess you call hair under control…" He stopped. He hadn't meant to say it.

"You noticed? My hair? Really?" Genuine surprise, he wasn't expecting that. He was expecting some sort of scathing remark.

"Everyone noticed, Granger. Pansy Parkinson was furious the entire evening all eyes weren't glued to her." He did it again. What was wrong with him?

"Your eyes were glued to me?" He could hear the laughter in her voice, wondering if it was directed at him or if she was pleased. It was quite difficult to differentiate.

"I didn't say…my eyes…" His response was incredibly feeble. Hermione altered her position, lying on top of him, kissing his lips quickly.

"Malfoy, look at me." He felt her flips on his eyelids, dancing across his forehead, the sides of his neck, his cheeks, but he couldn't will himself to open his eyes to face her. He ha seen disappointment etched constantly on the face of his father, his aunt, everyone he'd ever known as a child. He didn't want to see it on her face too. "No? Alright then." She straddled him, fingertips racing across his skin, barely perceptible, exploring.

"What are you doing, Granger?" His voice was strained, he could control that much.

"Exploring. I've never really…you know…seen a man before." There was a trace of wonder in her words. He opened his eyes then, watching her smile, taking in his nudity.

"You never saw Weasley, really? I find that…strange, honestly. Always thought he was the sort of bloke to snog you senseless, until you gave in." Hermione slapped his chest, leaving a bit of a red mark.

"Malfoy! We did nothing of the sort." He raised an eyebrow, his steel grey eyes glinting in the candlelight. "Well," She rolled her brown eyes, staring at the ceiling for a moment, "sure, we snogged, but it…wasn't…it was sort of…" Her brows furrowed.

"Vile? Disgusting? Completely dissatisfying?" Draco inserted easily while sitting up to nuzzle her neck. He teased her lips, tugging softly, waiting for the guttural groan he learned to expect.

"Nothing like this…" She sighed.

"Or this?" He adjusted her body, finding himself buried within her.

"No!" She gasped. "I didn't know…it could be done…this…way." Her voice was failing her, trailing off when he gripped her hips, showing her the idea of movement. She caught on quickly, rocking against him, mumbling to herself.

That was the moment Bill threw open the joint bath door.


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: You know the drill, it's not mine, I'm not awesome cuz I'm not JK yatta yatta yatta sad panda**

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**AN: Raw, unedited, mature-ish**

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Chapter 11

Bill Weasley wished he was blind for the first time in his life. He didn't want to see Hermione Granger's head thrown back, nonsensical words spilling forth. He didn't want to see Draco Malfoy's hand on her breast, his mouth covering hers. He didn't want to hear the sounds. He didn't want to see the sights.

"I wish I were dead." Bill couldn't force himself to leave, but he didn't want to stay. Draco caught sight of him during the process of repositioning their bodies. He flicked his wrist, shutting the door between them.

"Granger." He spoke into her neck, her body bucking beneath him, head thrashing from side to side. She dug her nails into his back, scraping his ribs. "We've got company, love." She whined, disgruntled yet ignored him, clenching her knees, biting his shoulder.

"Not yet, not yet." She chanted, forcing him to quicken the pace. Mere seconds later, he felt her body tighten, shuddering, while cries of delight flowed forth as he joined her. He watched her body relax, her eyes fluttering open.

"You're beautiful." He'd done it again. He was going to have to speak to Bill regarding this new habit of saying exactly what he thought. This couldn't be a good quality for anyone to have, let alone him.

Hermione smiled, touching his cheek before pushing him off her. She leapt off the bed, intent on washing away the evidence of their afternoon. She turned the handle, cracking the door, when a set of hands pushed it closed on the other side.

"Wait!" Draco grabbed the sheet, wrapping it around her naked body. "We've got company, you can't go in there like that." Hermione laughed, shrugging off the sheet, opening the door wide.

"Company, ha. That's not funny, Malfoy." She walked straight into Bill Weasley. Draco rushed forward, rewrapping her in the bed sheet while she screamed. Bill's eyes were tightly closed, yet he spun in the opposite direction anyway. Draco pulled Hermione back into her room, covering from her neck to ankles in sheet. She faced him in rage, and then the blows began.

"Granger. Granger. Stop it. Calm down." He took her blows in stride, though they were less than enjoyable. Her tiny, ineffectual fists pounded his chest, his shoulders, even his stomach a few times. "Let me know when you're done, love." Those few words stopped her cold. She looked up at him with hurt in her eyes. His arms came around her slowly.

"Is this funny to you?" She said it so quietly, he almost missed it.

"Funny? I didn't ask Bill to come. I didn't invite him here to have a look see. Why don't we simply ask him, what the bloody hell he wants?" Logic always worked with Hermione. It just made sense to her. She tightened the sheet, noticing his nudity.

"You're…you're…naked." Draco looked down nonchalantly, pulling his hair back.

"Well, I find it incredibly difficult to have a romp with a woman fully clothed." A droplet of water hit his foot. He looked down at her, frowning. A few tears were flowing down her cheek.

"A romp?" She tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let her go. Bill opened the door, gesturing wildly behind her.

'Fix it.' Bill mouthed to Draco. Hermione was truly upset with him. Another venture toward unfamiliar territory.

"No! That's not what I…I didn't mean it like…" Draco shrugged at Bill, who rolled his eyes. Draco flicked his hand, shutting the door once more.

"I thought…I mean, I don't know what I thought, but I didn't think…" Hermione stumbled through her thought process, tilting her head this way and that.

"Granger, don't think. You think too much, always have. We don't…we don't have to…have all the answers. Not right now, we'll figure it out…" Draco had no idea what he was talking about. He had never been part of a 'we', not really, but the words sounded right. Maybe that was enough for now.

"Together? We'll figure it out…together?" Hermione had a pleading sort of quality to her voice, which did that thing to his heartstrings again.

"Exactly." He didn't want her to cry anymore. Or talk for that matter. She opened her mouth to go on another one of her endless over thought monologues, but he silenced her easily with a gentle, yet sensual kiss.

"I don't have all day you wankers!" Bill bellowed from the confines of the lavatory. Reluctantly, Draco opened the lavatory door for a chagrined Bill.

"How did you do that? Where's your wand?" Hermione's brows furrowed yet again. Draco shrugged.

"Non-verbals. I do it all the time." Draco glared at Bill over the top of Hermione's head. A nonverbal warning. Bill sighed, stepping carefully around the barely clothed couple.

"Sorry, really sorry. It's just, well, you've been summoned, Draco." Bill flounced into a plush armchair, pouring himself a cup of tepid tea.

"Summoned? By whom? No one knows I'm here, I…" Bill removed The Daily Prophet from his blazer pocket. "Bollocks." Hermione edged closer to the joint bath, intent on washing away…everything.

"Hermione, please stay where you are. My greatest wish is to never see Draco Malfoy nude…again." She froze, covering her mouth to stifle the laughter. "You've been summoned as well."

"Me? Why on earth?" Bill pulled two envelopes out of his pocket.

"They say the same thing. Neither of you are going to like it, not a bit." Draco snatched a letter from Bill's hand, ripping it open, letting the envelope fall to the floor. Bill was ever so grateful his friend kept hold to a corner of the sheet.

"No, I won't do it." He snapped his fingers, setting the letter ablaze. Hermione stepped back from him, not frightened, but definitely filled with trepidation.

"Read it to me, Bill." Her child like voice caused Draco to reach behind him for her hand. She hesitated before taking it. Bill closed his eyes a moment before he began to read.

"Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, requests your presence…"

"Demands more like it." Draco interjected angrily. She squeezed his hand into silence.

"This Saturday evening, half past 7, Malfoy Manor." Hermione gasped, clutching the sheet to her throat.

"I can't, I won't do it, can't make me." Draco's chest was heaving, droplets of perspiration dripping down his torso.

"Does it…does it say anything else, Bill?" Tearfully she pleased, rubbing her nose against the back of her hand. Bill shook his head slowly.

"It's just a…list really, of the expected guests."

"I can't, Bill. This is…ridiculous. The Minister can't expect me to go…there."

"I'm sorry Malfoy, but…" Draco held up his hand.

"I understand. I'm not going, don't want to, don't have to. I'd rather…I'd rather go to Azkaban." Bill and Hermione gasped in horror.

"You don't mean that!" She watched as his shoulders started to shake, her gaze lingering on the silvery scar across his back. Was Draco Malfoy…crying?

"Bill." His voice was strangled, making Hermione want to comfort him, but Bill's glare warned her away. She grabbed her dressing gown with the tips of her fingers, slipping it around her shoulders, surrendering the sheet. Draco made no effort to take it from her, his shoulders still shaking silently. Hermione held it out to Bill, gesturing toward the bath. He nodded, taking the sheet, draping it loosely over his friend's shoulders while Hermione left the room.

Bill could count on one hand the number of times he had seen his friend cry. It wasn't something men readily spoke about, before or after the expression of such deep emotion. Sometimes the tears were of frustration; other times anger, but never out of…fear or even sadness.

Draco sat on the corner of the unkempt bed, unable to find inner peace. He couldn't focus. He couldn't stop this full range of what Bill would call emotions. Anger. Confusion. Upset. Fear.

"Make it stop." His voice was shaky, uncertain even and he hated it.

"I…I can't, Draco." Bill handed his friend a handkerchief, feeling helpless.

"Did she go? You…you made her go…right?" He blew noisily into the handkerchief, hating her needed it, but grateful to have it.

"I didn't have make her…she knew." Draco started to hiccup, like a small child, trying to find a rhythm to his erratic breathing.

"I can't do it, Bill. I'll come undone. I'm barely…I've been barely…" He couldn't finish the sentence.

"You're barely hanging on as it is…I know. If you don't show up, it'll just…you don't have a choice, mate. If it makes you feel a bit better, I have to go as well. So does Harry. Ron wasn't invited." Draco smirked.

"Good. Git."

"Maybe it won't be so bad." Bill knew he was grasping at straws. "Think; I'll be there. Harry will be there. Hermione will be there. Your father is going to be hard pressed to remain civil with the Minister for Magic in attendance as well."

"Sure, but what happens when Shacklebolt leaves? How am I supposed to walk into that house? How am I supposed to keep her together, when I can't keep myself together?" Bill's mouth gaped open. He didn't have an answer.

"Malfoy, it's not your job to keep me together. We'll keep each other together." Hermione hesitantly walked toward them, her hair wrapped in a towel. His red-rimmed eyes were filled with such pain; she could almost feel it boring into her soul.

"I'm so tired…" Draco Malfoy looked as defeated as he felt. Hermione patted the bed, directing his movements. When he laid down, she pulled a dark blue blanket over him. She sat beside him, brushing his white blonde hair off his face, kissing his forehead.

"Sleep." Draco snuggled himself into the blankets, reveling in the faint scent of flowers.

"That's it then, is it?" Hermione and Bill sat side by side, drinking numerous cups of tepid tea, trying to finagle a way out of their summons. Bill dropped a few cubes of sugar into his tea, while rubbing the creases between his eyes.

"It's a summons, from the Minister for Magic no less." That said it all. The following evening they were going to gather in the residence of a former Death Eater.

"How…how did you and Malfoy…you know." Hermione found she was curious when it came to their unlikely alliance.

"Meet? Become friends?" Bill shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his maroon blazer, picking imaginary threads from his dark slacks.

"Yes, Ron and Harry, well they never would have…"

"Good thing I'm not Ron, or even Harry for that matter. It's not really my story to tell, you know? I don't exactly know how it happened, really. I was ambling along in a particularly dense piece of wood, and he just…sort of showed up. I mean, well not showed up I suppose. I came across him in a clearing." He sipped his tea as if it were hot, giving himself a moment to formulate his thoughts.

"You simply decided to go for a wander in the wood?" Hermione, to Bill's great relief had finally donned a pair of plaid slacks and a pink sweater. Anything was better than the sheet; except nudity.

"Ever since…you know, I find myself needing some solitude, so yeah, I wander around the wood. That's neither here nor there." He didn't wish to discuss himself. He didn't wish to discuss any of this, but perhaps someone besides himself needed to know the circumstances of their friendship.

"He was just standing there, his face sort of, contorted in pain. He, well, he fell to his knees, ripping out clumps of his own hair and I realised he had used a Silencing Charm on himself. He was a bit like a mad man really. Took a bit for me to get near him. He's very adept in non-verbal magic, as you've seen." Hermione leaned forward, her elbows on her knees; hanging on Bill's every word.

"I suppose he cast some sort of Shield or Charm to keep others away from him, so I kept my distance. When his silent screams seemed to finish? His body; he was on his knees you see, well, it snapped to attention, his back bending backward so far, I thought it would break honestly. It didn't, but to this day? I've never seen anything like it.

'He sort of noticed I was there when he reverted back to this simpering sort of lump, lying on top of the brambles and weeds. He eyes me warily, like I was a werewolf about to devour him. His shirt was shredded, his pants torn in so many places they barely resembled clothing. I removed the Silencing Charm, threw my robe over him and waited." Bill sighed, glancing over at the sleeping form of Draco Malfoy.

"Waited for what?" Hermione whispered, touching his knee, drawing his attentions back to her.

"For him to speak, to wake up…something. I'd never seen such a tortured soul. The first thing he said to me was 'you're a Weasley', like it was a personal affront. He didn't know where he was or even how he got there. He fell in and out of consciousness, always telling me how much it hurt. I honestly didn't know what he was talking about. I didn't see a mark on him, never have. He swears there are scars…so, I believe him."

"What do you mean you didn't see a mark on him? Haven't you ever taken a look at his back?" Bill nodded, but still didn't see her point. "There's a scar there, Bill. It crisscrosses down his back, the same as mine."

"Wait, you have the same scar?" Bill seemed suddenly alarmed. "You never told me, or anyone as far as I know. How? When? Show me." Hermione avoided his questions, but lifted the bottom of her sweater, just to show him the bottom line of the scar. She pointed to where it met the top of her waist, but he shook his head.

"There's nothing there." Hermione grumbled. She was tired of being told nothing existed in the place where she herself could plainly see it did.

"Fine. I'm making it up. Satisfied?" She pulled down her sweater, turning away from him.

"Tell me…about it…" Bill was perched on the edge of the armchair, casting furtive glances at Draco's sleeping form; almost as if he were waiting for the storm.

"Bellatrix, she…I don't…I don't want to talk about it, Bill."

"He said the same thing. I'm going to have to talk to someone about this. This is Dark Magic. Show me again." Hermione groaned, yet still, she stood, pulling up the corner of her sweater, pointing directly to a thin silver line she could see perfectly.

"Right there, Bill." He reached out slowly and touched exactly where she was pointing.

The wind was pulled from her lungs, knocking her to the ground. On her knees, she gasped, trying to draw a breath, incredible pain blinding her.

"Don't touch it!" Draco screamed in his sleep. Bill looked from Hermione to Draco and back again. The room rumbled, the walls started to shake. Bill tried to drag Hermione into the hall.

"We've got to go. Well, you've got to go. I'll handle this." Bill knew exactly what was happening. Hermione had her primal screams, Draco, the crumbling of the forest around him. Except this time, they weren't in the forest and Bill didn't want Hermione caught in Draco's violent nightmare.

"No! Bill stop! I'm not leaving him!" Hermione yelled into the wind starting to circulate her room, snuffing the fire.

"You've got too." Bill pulled harder at her waist, Hermione fighting him every step of the way.

"No! He didn't leave me. I'm not leaving him." She called his name, over and over, louder each time, forcing one foot in front of the other, grasping the bedpost. Bill watched in awe as the winds shifted, slowly dying down. Draco's stiff contorted body started to relax. She had her hand on his covered foot, then his leg, until finally she grasped his hand in hers.

"Malfoy. Malfoy! You've got to stop, please." Bill couldn't get past the bedpost. She was inside his inadvertent Shield Charm. Bill couldn't hear her words anymore, but he knew they were working. Draco's face started to relax, the loud ringing noise stopped completely. He sat up suddenly, his hand outstretched.

"Remember, always remember. Remember the most powerful magic to ever exist." He collapsed back onto the pillow, panting.

"Why did he say that, Bill? What's wrong with him?" Hermione was on the verge of tears, kissing Draco's forehead, clutching his hand in her own.

"I don't know. He always says it. We don't know what it means. He won't let me talk to anyone about it."

"It must…it must mean something!" She sobbed, biting it back into her throat, hating her weakness.

"Bellatrix." Draco whispered. Hermione stiffened automatically. "Bellatrix Lestrange said it to me, while wielding a whip made of light." Hermione got off the bed and went into the lavatory. Bill could hear the water running.

"A whip of light? Did it…happen to wrap itself around your arm?" Bill probed gently, a sneaking suspicion making the ginger hair on his arms stand. Hermione came back with a small towel in her hand, damp with cool water. She climbed up next to Draco, wiping his face down. Draco met Bill's eyes and nodded slowly.

"She…made me promise." Bill was suddenly weak in the knees.

"You've got to let me…talk to Kingsley. He'll be discreet." Bill pleaded, knowing the answer was no. It was always no. Draco looked to Hermione, who nodded. He closed his eyes, his breathing growing deep. She settled beside him, yet before she laid her head on his chest, she glared at Bill.

"Do it, do it now. Go." Without a second glance, she closed her eyes, her hand brushing the warm cheek of Draco Malfoy.


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I own an impressive collection of dvds, but I don't own Harry Potter.**

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**AN: you guys are uber adorable in your 'ohemgee' what's going to happen reviews. i heart you. *kisses***

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Chapter 12 –

"It's a matter of principle. We shouldn't be expected to attend. Have you spoken with Kingsley?" Ginny stood across the small bedroom from her husband, watching their young son sleep. Harry figured it was the best place to broach such subjects. She wouldn't let her anger get the best of her if it meant waking James.

"I haven't the chance yet. I believe he's avoiding me." Harry tousled his son's head before crossing the room. Ginny stared, transfixed at the window, watching the night fog roll in, but he knew she was anxious.

"I don't understand. Malfoy Manor? As if you haven't been through enough? As if Hermione is just going to glide ride through the doors of the place where…" He rested his hand lightly on her shoulder, interrupting her.

"I know but…" Harry kissed her temple.

"No buts, Harry. This is disastrous. A summons. What am I going to tell my parents? Can you just hear my mum?" Ginny leaned into Harry, sighing in disgust.

"I could make an excuse for you…is that Bill?" Harry peered out the frosted window over Ginny's shoulder.

"Yeah, maybe he's decided this summons is ridiculous as well." Ginny grabbed her **wrap** and skirted past Harry to open the door for her eldest brother.

"D'ya know where Shacklebolt is? Can't seem to find him." Bill pushed passed his baby sister, heading directly for the low burning fire; his hair a wild tangled mess.

"Got the summons then?" Ginny set the kettle over the fire with a flick of her wand while bringing forth a tray filled with tea cups.

"Yes, of course, but that's not…where's Harry?" Bill turned toward the sound of soft steps descending the narrow staircase.

"Here, Bill, hello." Harry had learned the art of patience. No longer was he the forge ahead without thinking sort. There was something eating away at Bill; best thing Harry could do was wait silently for Bill to get to it.

"I'm sort of…in a rough spot, Harry. Can't find Shacklebolt, McGonagall is in the throes of a row with, well I don't know who exactly, but she's indisposed. I can't carry this, Harry. I need help. Normally I'd turn to Hermione. She's always the first one to offer the research, but, I can't…Ginny? Could you…give us a bit?" Bill wasn't inclined to spill Hermione's secrets in front of her 'best friend', even Ginny had to understand that much.

"Is it Hermione? Is she alright? Did Malfoy hurt her? I'LL KILL HIM!" Bill instantly found himself on the other end of Ginny's brandished wand, held shakily at his throat, no less. Harry sighed heavily.

"Maybe, let him, ya know…say things." He placed his hand over his wife's, lowering it back to her side.

"Uh, thanks Harry. So, let's just sit then?" Bill slid back into the horrendously floral chair. Ginny glared, tossing her shiny dark red hair over her shoulders before deigning to sit across from him.

"So then…" Harry smiled apologetically at his brother-in-law, joining his wife.

"I never told you how I met Draco." Bill started, quickly filling them in.

"You left Hermione with him? After that?" Ginny's voice started to rise once more and Harry held up his hand. Bill was amused to see his sister roll her eyes, yet slump into silence.

"You're leaving something out." Harry's bright green eyes narrowed when Bill avoided meeting his gaze.

"I suppose you didn't become an Auror on reputation alone. They have…well, I don't know really since I can't bloody see it, but they're connected, Harry. Draco has told me about his scar, but I've never seen it and not for lack of trying. Hermione informed me of the same. I touched it; where she said it was at any rate and he was screaming at me not to touch it." Harry removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Maybe the stupid git didn't want you touching her." Ginny practically spit the words.

"He was asleep."

"The question begs to be asked. Who do we turn to when we need Hermione, but she's unavailable?" Harry leaned back, propping his feet on the small, dark table before them.

"We have to get her away from him." Ginny was adamant. Bill couldn't explain why he thought that was the last thing they should do, but he didn't wish to find himself on the other end of her wand again.

"Actually Ginny, I disagree. Sorry love, but we don't know what will happen if we separate them. If we drag her away, she's going to lash out at us, never forgive us really and Malfoy, well, it could prove to be detrimental to him as well." Harry locked eyes with Bill. "We need…"

"We need Hermione." Ginny grit her teeth crossly.

"Yes, but no that wasn't what I was going to suggest. We need to…"

"Resurrect D.A." Harry smiled; glad Bill was on the same page.

"Dumbledore's Army, really Harry? You make it sound as if we're heading toward another bloody war. I detest Malfoy as much as the next witch but…"

"Ginerva Potter, you're being ridiculous. We need a group of witches and wizards we can bloody trust since Shacklebolt is doing Merlin knows what. What better than reuniting those Harry trusts most to aid his best friend?"

"Well, why not bloody just say that then? Was there really all the need for dramatics?" Ginny sipped her tea with a sniff. Bill and Harry chose to remain silent. Neither of them were willing to risk the fiery redhead's anger by pointing out her flare for dramatics. They were quite attached to their manly bits, after all.

Leaving James in the more than willing hands of Molly Weasley; Harry, Ginny and Bill Apparated to Hogmeade. They stood in the center of the quaint magical village, staring up at Hogwarts.

"Is this a good idea?" Ginny sounding frightened, drew her brother and Harry closer. They crept slowly up the lane, remembering the last time they were there.

"There's really no place else. McGonagall will let us." Harry was the surest of the trio, leading the way through the still intimidating iron gates.

"Students out of bed!" The awkward gait of Argus Filch's feet echoed on the stone.

"How is he still here?" Bill whispered.

"How is he still alive?" Harry answered.

"Magic." Ginny huffed. They felt, once more as if they were naughty students sneaking about the castle.

Minerva McGonagall stood in The Great Hall, her lips a firm hard line, yet there was a twinkle in her eyes as she looked over the top of her half-moon spectacles.

"Harry Potter."

Draco Malfoy was utterly trapped in the confines of his mind. He could hear Hermione's voice crooning to him; begging him even to wake, yet the difficulty arose when he attempted to open his eyes. A blinding pain wracked his weary bones.

_"Legilimens!" Bellatrix Lestrange's crooked wand delved into her nephew's mind, flipping through his thoughts as if it were a particularly delightful fairytale. "Ugh, you're not even trying boy!" She twisted her wand, pushing him further, her dark eyes dancing with delight._

_ Draco fell to his knees, thin, pale, shaking heads clutching his head. She was too strong. He'd never be able to defend himself against her. He knew if he uttered a sound, it would be much worse for him. He grit his teeth, struggling to find a hold, a reason even, to launch his maniacal aunt out of his mind._

_ "Draco." Bellatrix released him; with shrewd eyes she watched him crawl away from her, his chest heaving. She perched herself on a high backed stool, tapping her peep toe stilettos against the steel bar. "DRACO!" Her piercing shriek made his ears ring._

_ "Aunt Bellatrix." Draco Malfoy pressed his dirty fingertips into his eye sockets hoping it would ebb the pain. He listened to the clipped steps across the dank stone of the dungeon floor with dread._

_ "I noticed…a girl…Draco. Do you wish to tell me about her?" Bellatrix Lestrange's words were uncharacteristically soft, almost sweet, but Draco knew they were the calm before the storm. It would be better for him to tell the truth, yet he instinctively wished to deceive her._

_ "She's nothing, just a filthy Mudblood." He continued to stare at the ground, a trickle of water flowing distracted him for a moment and then she struck._

_ "Really…" Bellatrix seized his hair in her tight fist, yanking his head back, forcing him to gaze upon her madness. "Why must you lie to me so?" She released him with a small shove, patting his mussed hair back into place. "I'm only trying to protect you. Tell me, Draco." His peripheral vision caught snippets of her exaggerated pout._

_ "She's nothing, I swear it. Nothing." He knew his voice wavered, but he refused to cringe._

_ "DO NOT LIE TO ME!" Her black skirts flounced while stomping to and fro. "I don't understand. We've given you everything. You DARE to DEFY THE DARK LORD with a nasty little Mudblood? Whatever would your father say? Think of your poor mother. You'll break her fragile little heart, Draco. WHY. Why would you be so selfish?"_

_ Draco found his aunt unnerving. Her voice lilted from sweet and sorrowful to downright terrifying in the blink of an eye. He was never certain which version of his aunt would be upon him._

_ "I haven't done anything." Draco's chin jutted in defiance while he rose, standing before his diabolical aunt. Bellatrix batted her black eyelashes, almost smiling._

_ "Of course not, dear…dear, Draco. Perhaps we'll simply lure your…friend here, to be absolutely certain. It's what The Dark Lord would want." Bellatrix watched his face pale, which was curious considering his pallor and smiled._

_ "No. Not…her." He slipped. He hadn't intended to utter a response. He betrayed himself. Bellatrix Lestrange growled in fury. She raised her wand, but Draco was prepared; albeit terrified._

_ "Legilimens!"_

_ "PROTEGO!" Draco gasped in horror as his aunt was cast into the stone wall of the dungeon. He held the spell, panicking; before rushing from the cold, dank cell._

Hermione mopped Draco's forehead with cool cloths, weeping quietly. He writhed, mumbling incoherently. He seemed completely unaware of his surroundings, but whenever she attempted to leave his side, he clutched her unyieldingly, requiring her to remain by his bedside.

"I don't know what to do. How can I not know what to do? I always know what to do." She wrung her hands nervously, fingering the blue coverlet.

"No, not her. NOT HER. GRANGER!" Draco repeated his mantra numerous times in the past hour, seemingly trapped in a horrific nightmare.

"I'm here, it's alright, promise. Please wake up, Malfoy. Please." Hermione used the tepid cloth, washing the light sheen of sweat from his chest. She laid her forehead against his, willing him to awaken. His brows furrowed in what she interpreted as pain. Tentatively, Hermione pressed her lips to his. She felt his hands on her waist, gripping her tightly. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her in wonder.

"You're here, you're alright." He sighed in relief, pressing her head into his shoulder, droplets of tears raining into her hair. Hermione felt it best to remain silent under the circumstances. There wasn't a bloke alive comfortable with crying in front of a woman.

"Tell me what happened." Hermione finally murmured into the side of his neck.

"I couldn't get out. It's strange, really. I've had that dream a thousand times if I've had it once, but this time, I couldn't find my way out. It simply kept repeating." Using a fist, he dried his eyes, angry with himself for the show of weakness.

"Was she there?" She kissed his cheek, trying to draw him out. There was no need for Hermione to expound on whom she was referring.

"She's always bloody there. She was trying to teach me Occlumency, but she was so fucking strong, I didn't stand a chance, not really. She sorted through my memories like they were a picture book. She threatened me and I…"

"She threatened you? With what?" He tightened his grip, encompassing Hermione completely.

"You. She found you. It's…it's my fault." Hermione struggled against him to no avail. She couldn't budge.

"No, Malfoy. NO! It's NOT your fault your bloody lunatic aunt tormented me. It would have happened with our without you. We had the sword of Gryffindor. She was never going to let me go without the truth; which I never gave her. It had nothing to do with you. Stop it this instant!"

"I…want you to go." Draco pushed Hermione from him with shaky limbs. With difficulty, he climbed from his bed, refusing to look at her.

"Go? I don't understand."

"It'll end badly for you. I ruin everything I touch."


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: If I had a Time-Turner...I'd own Harry Potter...but I don't...so I don't.**

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**AN: it's a shorty, but hey, better than none at all. if you're really good i'll post another later. oh. who am i kidding? i'll post it anyway. *kisses***

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Chapter 13

"Has anyone sent an owl in response?" Ginny was pacing nervously in the Owlry of Hogwarts.

"They'll come." Harry hoped they would come. He hadn't seen some of them for years and the owls they sent were completely devoid of details, but he maintained high hopes. Bill was busy with the Room of Requirement, making arrangements for sleeping accommodations, and scouring the library for more information in the Restricted Section.

"Let's just go into Hogsmeade. If uh, when they come, we'll be there to greet them." It really was the best he could do. It wouldn't ease Ginny's anxiety, but it was better than watching her pace.

"D'ya think she's alright, Harry?" Ginny let Harry lead her down from the Owlry, down moving staircases, through twisting and turning corridors until they were outside to the path leading to Hogsmeade.

"I…I don't think Malfoy's going to hurt her or anything, but I don't think she's been alright for a long time. I think we didn't notice. I think we've got to fix it, or at least try."

It was the middle of the night by this point, yet Hogsmeade was alight with witches and wizards engaged in various conversations. The Three Broomsticks had opened its doors raising a cheer among the crowd.

"You didn't owl Ron did you?" Ginny's frantic voice was barely heard among the chatting witches and wizards. Harry shook his head violently.

"Won't be able to keep it from him for long." Harry looked over the gathering, taking in every face, subtle surprise etched on his own.

"Harry! It's Harry!" The gentle hum of conversations died down; each witch and wizard present looking at him expectantly. He couldn't see who had shouted, but it didn't matter.

"Oi! Harry, what's this about?" Seamus Finnegan laughed, downing his amber glass of liquid. Ginny gave Harry a none too gentle shove forward.

"Well, uh, thanks for coming…short notice and all." He shuffled his feet, kicking up a small cloud of dirt.

"Yeah, yeah Potter! Get on with it then!" Another voice shouted from the back.

"I, well, I could use your help. It's a bit of a quandary really. Unusual circumstance, but I can't figure this out on my own and…"

"What's Granger good for then eh?" Cormac McLaggen found himself shoved over by Neville Longbottom of all people.

"Yea, see, that's the problem. She's in a bit of a fix along with uh, well with…" Harry paused, unsure how to tell these witches and wizards in front of him, who fought beside him in the Battle of Hogwarts; it was Draco Malfoy who required their aid.

"Draco Malfoy." Bill Weasley interjected, stepping forward beside Harry. There was a collective gasp, turning into grumbles of anger. The crowd lessened as some of them Disapparated on the spot. Harry and Bill stood silently, waiting for the last vestiges to make their decision.

"Neville Longbottom. Susan Bones. Hannah Abbott. Luna Lovegood. Seamus Finnegan. Dean Thomas. Cho Chang. Oliver Wood. Angelina Johnson. George Weasley. Gregory Goyle? Really? Bill Weasley. Ginny Potter. Harry Potter." Headmistress McGonagall read the list of names without malice.

"Goyle kept saying he owed Granger before falling into a drunken stupor." George snickered.

"Ron Weasley is not on this list." Headmistress McGonagall glared at them over the top of her spectacles, waiting.

"No, Professor, see, well uh, Ron has a bit of an issue where Hermione is concerned. 'Specially now, with Malfoy as well so we, well, we decided to leave him out of it, for now." Harry still managed to feel like a school boy in trouble with his Headmaster whenever Minerva glared at him.

"Granger and Malfoy, Dumbledore would be pleased." She dabbed the corner of her eyes with a lacy handkerchief.

The group of former Hogwarts students sat on thin mats on the floor of the Room of Requirement, looking to Harry expectantly.

"Alright well, it seems Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy have a sort of unexplainable connection. No, we don't understand it. No, we don't know much of anythin' really, other than they share night terrors and there's some sort of scar. No, I haven't seen the scar." Harry answered unasked questions when Neville or even Gregory Goyle would raise their hands.

"Harry, I can research Herbology. Perhaps it's some sort of poison, but a bezoar would fix that right quick…" Neville flushed.

"No, yeah Neville, it could be anything', better to cover everything." Harry patted Neville on the back kindly.

"It could be Nargals. They haven't been studied properly for years." Luna Lovegood's wispy timbre created silence.

"Uhm, yea sure, Luna. So you'll head that up then." Harry looked to Bill for encouragement, but Bill was busy stifling his laughter.

"Goyle. We'd like you to uhm well, first, why are you here?" Gregory Goyle wasn't the hulking oaf they remembered. He was still large, yet somehow less imposing.

"Fiendfyre." Harry nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose, remembering the incident which took place exactly where they were standing.

"Alright then, we'd like it if you contacted the Defence against the Dark Arts Professor and shared anythin' you can remember about your interactions with Bellatrix Lestrange." It really was the only common denominator for torture as far as Draco and Hermione were concerned. Goyle stared at the floor, neither confirming nor denying he had heard a word Harry had spoken.

"George, we'd appreciate it if you just…kept Ron at bay." Bill and Harry had decided to keep George as far as possible from any impending doom. He was still a bit fragile, considering.

"Wait, we don't get to hex the wanker?" Oliver Wood piped up looking quite angry.

"No, we'd rather prefer that didn't happen…" Harry looked to Bill.

"We want to help him, if you can't understand that, perhaps you're in the wrong place." Bill's half smile was petrifying.

"Bugger this!" Oliver Wood and Cho Chang stormed from the Room of Requirement and no one bothered to stop them.

"Hannah, please assist Neville. Angelina, same with George. Susan, if you could stick with Goyle, we'd appreciate having another set of ears about."

"Oi! What 'bout us, Potter?!" Seamus and Dean stood with their arms crossed, waiting for words of wisdom or even direction. Harry was at a complete loss. He didn't have a bloody clue what to do.

"Perhaps, you boys just keep your ears open and we'll owl you if necessary." Bill slumped onto an available mat, his eyes already closing.

"So, do what we already do. Awesome! We're fantastic at doing nothing!" Seamus and Dean slapped each other's hands, practically skipping from the room.

"I'm knackered." Harry spoke to the ceiling, while reclining on yet another incredibly thin mat.

"Shut up, I'm sleeping." Bill gave Harry a bit of a kick to the arm. Neville and Hannah were in deep discussion, Goyle was fast asleep while Angelina and George stood quietly snogging in the corner. Harry wished Ginny was present, but one of them had to be the responsible parent.

"Have you checked the family book of spells?" Luna's voice rung out in the darkness.

"The what?" Harry sat up, his hair pointing in various directions.

"The Malfoy Family Book of Spells. All of the old pureblood families have one you know."

"Luna, you're bloody brilliant."


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Do I really still need these? Ugh. I'm nothing. I own nothing.**

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**AN: oh yeah, forgot to tell you, we're just over halfway thru this fic. whoot.**

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Chapter 14

"I don't understand!" Hermione Granger found herself on the wrong side of the door. Draco Malfoy had awoken embarrassed to find himself being comforted by the likes of her, Hermione assumed. He had leapt off the bed in a newfound fury; shoved her into the lavatory before locking the door.

"Stop it, Granger. Go away." He slammed his fist into the wall beside the doorjamb, not a flinch flickering his features.

"It's my room, you bastard!" She kicked the door to punctuate her point, forgetting she was barefoot.

He needed to leave. He couldn't breathe. Not here, not anymore. He was almost ashamed of himself for what had transpired between himself and Granger.

'Hermione Granger, what was I thinking? My father will surely get wind of this, he'll kill me.' Draco felt the chill of fear grasping his heart as his thoughts swirled.

The summons from the Minister for Magic didn't help his mood in the least. Draco Malfoy had already decided he was never going to let Hermione Granger step foot into his family's Manor. He kept telling himself it wasn't to protect her, it was to protect himself. There was a high pitched woman's laughter reverberating in his brain.

"Shut up, shut up! SHUT UP!" He grasped his head in his hands, pulling his blonde hair by the roots. 'This is pointless.' He thought to himself as the maniacal laughter continued. Draco opened the bath door, Hermione immediately shoved him angrily.

"You wanker! I didn't have to stay! I could have left with Bill! And you…you ugh!" She was hitting him again. He couldn't really say he blamed her, but still, it was tiring.

"Granger, Granger." He shook her shoulders. Hermione was still absolutely furious, but she stopped attempting to beat Draco Malfoy senseless. "You're not going."

"What do you mean?! I haven't a choice! It's a summons from the Minister!" She looked as though she was ready for another bout of violence, but he held her fists still.

"Send an owl. Tell him it's inconvenient. Lie. Don't answer at all. I don't bloody care what you do, but you're not going." Hermione ripped her hands from his, stalking across the inn's room. He looked at his hand, realising how cold it felt without her.

"You don't get to dictate to me! You're not my…well, I don't know what you are, but you don't have the bloody right to tell me what I can and cannot do!" She stamped her foot. The Hermione Granger he spent years avoiding was finally standing in front of him, though he wasn't sure he liked it, yet he couldn't resist her. He decided to try a different tactic.

He found himself standing a hair's breadth from her, watching her pulse quicken in her throat.

"I'm not your…what exactly?" Draco laid a singular finger on the pulse in her neck. "Husband?" He kissed her cheek. "Boyfriend?" Then her forehead. "Lover? Oh I think we can rule in that one…" She melted in his arms, confusing her thoughts.

"You can't…just do that…whenever I disagree with you…" She rushed through the last few words before they drifted away.

"Why not? Are you planning on being disagreeable on a regular basis?" He tugged her curls lightly.

"Regular basis? You don't…expect this to…continue, do you?" He groaned when Hermione removed herself from his embrace.

"Why not?" The very notion of letting her slip through his fingers caused physical pain. His father be dammed. He tried to catch her hand, but she stayed just out of his reach.

"You're…well, you're Malfoy and I'm…I'm Hermione Granger. Harry and Ron would go absolute bonkers. Your father, oh Merlin, your father! He'll flay you, Malfoy!" Draco would have laughed if she wasn't correct in her assumptions.

"I never would have thought…" He scoffed aloud, stalking in the opposite direction.

"Thought what? What are you going on about?" Her stomach rumbled. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she ate something.

"Granger is a Blood Status Snob. Apparently, she'd never deign to engage with a pureblood wizard. Whoever would have thought?" He knew he was intentionally needling her, but frankly she was getting on his nerves with all her imaginary rules.

"Draco Malfoy you take that back! Take it back right now!" A tea cup shattered near his ear, splashing the remnants of tea down his back. He couldn't recall a time when Hermione had ever used his first name. It startled him a bit to realise he didn't hate it.

"I won't. You're doing exactly what I used to do. You hated me for it, or did you forget?"

"Hate is a big strong. Intensely disliked? Detested?" Hermione couldn't argue his logic.

"Exactly, same thing."

"What of your father?" He watched her bite the corner of her lip. Something he noticed years ago, she happened to do when she was nervous or thinking too much.

"Granger, stop thinking. You think too much. Stop worrying about everyone else and think of yourself for once. You'll never be happy otherwise."

"You hated me too." She fingered her raw lip, staring at the threadbare carpet.

"I didn't, not really. Well, alright, sure first year, definitely. My father he…well, let's just say he was quite perturbed to discover a Muggle-born witch best his son. By fourth year, you sort of, grew on me. Like a fungus, a really pretty fungus that just wouldn't go away or back down. I always sort of…respected that." His mouth was running away without him again.

"You never…said anything." Hermione leaned against the wall furthest from him, waiting, watching. Draco threw himself onto her bed.

"Well, I bloody well couldn't, could I? Lucius Malfoy's son, raised to detest all wizards and witches with anything less than pureblood, completely smitten with not only a Gryffindor, but a Muggle-born as well? I'd have never survived. He would have killed me. Literally." There had to be some sort of spell to make his mouth stop moving. He covered his face with both hands, hoping she wouldn't ask anything else. He felt her, standing between his knees, but he wasn't going to open his eyes to look at her. He felt something. He wouldn't have been able to identify exactly what it was, but a more knowledgeable person would have been able to tell him it was embarrassment, mixed with a bit of shame.

"Dr..Draco." Hermione toyed with his name, it unfamiliar on her lips. She hadn't decided whether she liked it or not. Draco's eyes flew open, his steely grey locked on her golden brown. He sat up quickly, his face level with her chest.

"Say it again." She took a deep breath. It really wasn't all that bad.

"Draco." It was almost a sigh, his face relaxed against her, listening to her heart beat under his brow. Moments later, Hermione was divested of her clothing most willingly.

"AGAIN?!" Bill wished there was magic specifically made to scour eyeballs.

"Merlin's beard!" Ginny screeched, coming in behind her brother. "Stop it! Make it stop, Bill!" Ginny slapped his arm, hiding her head behind his back.

"Go. Away." Draco and Hermione were entwined upon floral sheets, nude. The more he kissed her, the more he wished to kiss her.

"Draco, you skipped tea." Bill kept his eyes trained on the carpet.

"Don't care." Hermione napped on his outstretched arm as he laid butterfly kisses wherever he pleased.

"Pssst, Bill." Ginny plucked his sleeve. "It's Ron." Bill ducked his head out of Hermione's room to see his youngest brother stomping toward them.

"What the devil is he doing here? George was supposed to distract him."

"You're still here. That is not the definition of leaving." Hermione smiled upon hearing Draco's voice. She seized Draco by his neck, pulling him down to her lips.

"Ginny? Bill? Whatchu doin' here? George said…" Ron's mouth gaped open. Silently, he removed his wand from a pocket, preparing to hex Draco Malfoy. Bill threw himself in front of Ron, grasping his wrist, thrusting him into the wall. Ginny fled into the room, shutting her brothers in the hall.

"Malfoy. Hermione, please." Draco groaned in protestation, completely disgruntled. With a quick kiss to Hermione, he ventured into the lavatory, discovering he was completely famished. Hermione slipped in behind him, dropping her sheet to the floor.

"It was bound to happen eventually, Malfoy." She turned the taps, testing the water temperature. "Can't spend forever in bed."

"Why not? It's perfectly delightful." He climbed into the shower stall, giving her a hand in as well.

"We do need to eat. I don't know about you, but I'm absolutely famished." Hermione dipped her head under the cascading water.

"What's the point of being a wizard if you can't conjure delectables on a whim?" Hermione laughed, a light musical sort of laugh, strange in her own ears, yet it was completely natural. Draco laughed with her, unfamiliar with the emotion bubbling in his chest.

"Laughing? They're bloody laughing? Bill, just one, let me just hit him, one time, I swear." Ron was tied to one of Hermione's armchairs, struggling against his bonds.

"Ron, don't make me set Ginny on you. She's aching to use that Bat-Bogey Hex she's so fond of and quite frankly, I'd love to see you receive it." Bill's laid upon the mantle, waiting impatiently for the sordid couple to show themselves. Ginny was bustling about, straightening up Hermione's room. She reminded him of their mother, Molly. It was exactly the sort of thing she would do.

"You ready?" Hermione buttoned Draco's navy blue shirt.

"No, definitely not." Draco repeatedly unbuttoned the pink blouse Ginny had slipped into their bath.

"Stop it, we've got to. Just, think of it as practice for tomorrow or rather for tonight." Draco stiffened. "Don't say it. I'm going." He knew he wasn't going to be able to talk her out of it, and yet...he despised the pangs stabbing his chest.

"Why couldn't she send in a skirt?" He gave up trying to undress her, closing her blouse under silent protest.

"Come on then. Got to face the music some time." A deep breath between them, fingers locked together, they opened the bath door.

"Will you come with us then?" Ginny found herself pleading. She didn't want to admit it, but Hermione looked better than she had in ages. She never looked this happy when she was with Ron.

"I don't want her to go at all, but apparently I don't get a say in the matter." Draco took a long swallow from the bottle of firewhisky Bill withdrew from his robes. Hermione shot him a warning glance, her eyes sliding over to Ron. Draco sighed, wondering how long he would have with her before she ventured back to the worst Weasley of the bunch.

"I think it would be best if I just went alone." It wasn't what she wanted, not by a long shot, but Hermione was never comfortable with unease amongst friends.

"Definitely not." Bill was the voice of reason. Snatching the bottle from Draco, he took a draught. "Worse idea I've ever heard. Go with Malfoy. Shut up Ron, no one cares. I'm not bringing Fleur, I don't care what sort of wrath will be visited upon me. Ginny, calm down. We're all going to wind up in the same place anyway. Does it matter really?" Ron grunted, attempting to bounce himself loose from his bonds.

"We should gather somewhere beforehand so we can arrive together." Ginny was suddenly agreeable, watching Hermione and Draco drift toward each other subconsciously.

"Where though? It'd be better not to attract attention to ourselves, especially in the company of those two." Bill gestured to the problem but only Ron stared.

"Oi! They're not even listening! They're snogging!" Bill flicked his wand, sending Hermione and Draco flying apart.

"We're only discussing a summons by the Minister, no need to pay attention or anything of the sort."

"I didn't get a summons." Ron whined, still determined to free himself.

"The Minister thinks you're a ponce Weaselbee, of course you didn't get a summons." Draco spoke around the multiple pumpkin pasties crammed into his mouth. Even Ginny stifled a laugh at Draco's comment. "I've got a place, but I'm not discussing it in front of him." He pointed at Ron.

"Ridiculous!" Ron shouted, the ropes chaffing his wrists. Bill untied him slowly, retaining Ron's wand.

"Go home, Ron. I'll send your wand with Ginny."

"Oi! It's mine! How am I supposed to get home you wanker?" Draco pushed Hermione behind him, as Bill stood in front of them both.

"George is downstairs, he'll see you home." Ron mutter under his breath; something about being betrayed by his own family, slamming the door during his departure.

"We'll go now. I'll bring Granger, Bill you bring She-Potter, but not…"

"I'll set us on the edge, no worries mate."

"Still not fond of this." Hermione was too far away from him. He didn't like it. He felt cold and empty.

"Draco, if they don't step inside…"

"It's still too close. I'll do it. I don't have to like it."

"My name…is not…She-Potter, Malfoy." Ginny tapped Draco's chest with the tip of her wand.

"My name is not Malfoy, She-Potter." He glowered at her abundance of red hair.

"I'm not calling you Draco, Malfoy."

"We're even then. I'm not calling you Ginny, She-Potter."

"Children! Children!" Bill interrupted their argument before jinxes could be thrown as Hermione was overcome by a fit of the giggles. They started slowly, quietly, until they grew in strength and sound.

"She's gone mental." Ginny had lowered her wand, incredulously watching the tears of laughter fall from Hermione's pink cheeks.

"She slept with Malfoy, would make anyone mental. Sorry mate."

"She slept with Ron, that didn't make her mental."

"No, she didn't." Draco felt insulted by the very thought.

"I most certainly did NOT, Ginerva Potter! I bloody well told you!" Hermione gasped, still laughing but indignant, an interesting sort of emotional conflict.

"Ron said." Hermione was searching through the pile of discarded clothes on the floor beside her bed.

"Where's my wand? I'll kill him." Draco kicked it under the bed effortlessly, while her curls covered her face.

"You're not going to kill him. Let it go. It's fine." He pulled Hermione to her feet.

"That whining, simpering, sodding bastard told my best friend I was a conquest! I'm going to bloody kill him. Come with me Ginny, I want to see his mouth explode with bats." Ginny sorted.

"He didn't tell me. He told…well, he told Harry and I just sort of overheard it."

"That's worse!" Bill and Draco simultaneously threw their hands into the air, taking a seat beside each other.

"We're never going to get out of here." Draco stage whispered to Bill.

"How is it worse? It's just Harry. He didn't even care! In fact, he told Ron he shouldn't go around talking about you that way."

"Really? Well, that's comforting I suppose. I wonder if he thought I was some sort of slag. I hope not." Bill spit his firewhisky directly onto Draco's shoes.

"Hermione, Harry listened to Ron be, ya know, Ron for bloody years. We were all shocked frankly you wound up dating Ron in the first place. I got a bit attached to the idea, I admit it. You're my best friend. I might not…well, I don't know him well enough to dislike him anymore, but I'll always be there when you need me. Even if you are doing whatever it is you're doing with Draco Malfoy."

"I think they're done now." Bill state whispered to Draco.

Hermione Granger was not a fan of being kept in the dark. She liked to have all the facts. She liked to analyze the facts before coming to her own conclusions. Therefore, following Draco Malfoy and Bill Weasley down to the foyer of the inn and Apparating to an undisclosed location was disconcerting to say the least.

"How are we supposed to Apparate to a destination we've never been?" Hermione's voice had a tendency to squeak when she was exceedingly nervous.

"Side-Along-Apparition, unless you'd like to fly with me?" He winked with an easy smile.

"No! Side-Along is fine." Draco nodded, drawing her into his arms, in front of all the witches and wizards littering the foyer. She closed her eyes, feeling the familiar pull in the pit of her stomach.

Hermione stumbled, Draco keeping her upright while she stared at her surroundings. The smooth stone walls, the polished wooden floors, the cubbies and built-ins along almost every wall, drew her wide astonished eyes.

"Where are we?" Hermione ran her hand along the mahogany table. The moonlight seeped through the double story windows left uncovered.

"The place I currently reside." Draco didn't think of this place as home, but it was the closest he'd had since he was a young child.

"It's beautiful. I love it." It had a rustic sort of charm, yet it was also incredibly masculine and elegant.

"You haven't seen the library yet." She ran to him then, crashing into his chest, her brown eyes dancing.

"You've a library? Where is it? Wait, where's Bill and Ginny?" She peeked around intricate doorways.

"They're outside. I've never…" Hermione stood at the largest window, watching Ginny spin around.

"Fidelius Charm? Really? Wait…you've never?" Draco found himself completely intrigued by the scuff on his black shoe.

"Not even Bill, just the clearing." He couldn't look at her.

"Why? Why me?" Draco didn't answer her. He opened the large oak door and walked outside.


	16. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I love peanut butter and jelly. Crunchy, never creamy. Raspberry, never grape. Rye, never white. Oh yeah, I don't own a thing. Sadly.**

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**AN: Also, as much as I love peanut butter &amp; jelly, I love you guys. Opening your reviews makes every day like Christmas. * kisses***

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Chapter 15

"There you are!" Ginny stomped toward him and Draco decided she definitely had anger issues. "Where's Hermione? Didn't she come with you?" Bill conjured a chair on the edge of the wood, far from his seething sister, unable to completely comprehend the strange evolving relationship of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.

"She'll be along, she's just…she'll be along."

"From WHERE? It's a FIELD, Malfoy. THIS is your great idea?" Ginny spun again, stopping short when she spied Hermione walking toward Bill.

"He fancies you a bit ya know?" Bill nudged Hermione as Ginny continued to berate Draco in the center of the field.

"How did that even happen, Bill? I can't find the logic."

"Maybe he was simply looking for a reason to defy his father and you were it. I don't know exactly. I do know he's always talked about you a bit. He noticed when you were about and when you weren't about. Drove me bloody insane quite honestly, he was constantly irritated by pictures or mentions of you and Ron. He used to rant for hours. How you ruined his life, how his father would never let him live down getting beat by a Muggle-born, but he didn't use that word. His father never failed to remind him he was only second best.

"It would have been more amusing if it hadn't been Draco Malfoy. Eventually I told him to shut it. If I had to hear about your bloody Yule Ball dress one more time, I was going to curse him myself. Personally, I think he defected for you."

"He always hated me…with a vengeance."

"There's a saying I once heard. There's a fine line between love and hate." Bill snickered, watching Ginny throw curses at Draco and his easily deflecting them.

"Are you saying…Draco Malfoy…loves me?" Hermione was absolutely incredulous. This went beyond the rules of logic. Bill shrugged, unwilling to add to the conjecture.

"I doubt he even knows it himself."

"Hey! Bill! Would you call your mental She-Potter sister off me?" Ginny shrieked in rage, kicking him hard in the shins. "That hurt!"

"It was supposed to you prat!"

"You're quite the violent minx aren't you?" Draco ducked another jinx, casting a Shield Charm.

"Blood ferret!" Ginny bellowed, her red hair plastered to her forehead, drab robes askew in her impatience to bring Draco Malfoy to his knees.

"Get turned into a ferret ONE TIME and no one lets you forget it! Tarantellegra!" Draco felt quite proud of himself watching Ginny dance about screaming her hatred of him.

"Bastard! I HATE YOU!" Ginny kicked up tufts of long grass, her breathing constricted, consumed by fury. With a wave of his wand, Bill removed the jinx from his sister, vowing to avoid her whenever possible.

Hermione felt a pull within her. She couldn't bear to be apart from him for another moment. Her feet, with a mind of their own, began walking toward Draco and Ginny slowly at first. Draco caught sight of her movements, following suit, leaving Ginny disgusted behind him. Hermione started to run, breathless in anticipation before crashing into him, her arms thrown around his neck. He spun her in circles, laughing as he kissed the tears from her eyes. Draco Malfoy felt the warmth returning to his extremities. He set her back on the ground, holding her gently until she gained her footing.

"I can't bloody take this! I'm going home! We'll meet at the Burrow." Ginny Disapparated before anyone could reply.

"Draco, could I have a word?" Bill was slinking into the shadows on the edge of the wood, shying away from the brightness of the almost full moon.

"Granger, I've got to go. I'll come back. I'll always come back, just go inside." Draco sounded almost frantic, which Hermione didn't understand in the least.

"Go? I don't…"

"Inside, go." He gave her a gentle shove, while keeping a tight grip on her wrist. He held her face in his hands, brushing his lips across her cheek. "I'll be seeing you, Granger." Draco sprinted across the expanse, clasped arms with Bill and they disappeared. Hermione heard a wolf how in the distance. She decided to retreat inside after-all.

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He returned in the wee small hours of the morning to find Hermione huddled under a heavy green caftan, a thick book in her hands, and the fire almost burned to embers.

"Enjoying yourself?" Hermione screamed, throwing the book directly at his head. Draco caught it easily, chuckling.

"You're back! Where did you go? Where's Bill? What time is it? Have you slept? You look exhausted."

"Granger, calm yourself. Everything is fine. I am quite exhausted, come sleep with me." He held out a hand, waiting for her to join him. Hermione yawned, drawing the blanket around her, letting him lead her up the hidden staircase to the loft upstairs.

"I didn't see this here. I got distracted." She yawned again, finding the bed in the center of the room.

"By the library of course." Draco pulled the rich green coverlet down to the end of the bed. Hermione allowed herself to be tucked in, waiting for him to join her. He shed his clothes, folding them neatly, leaving them on the dark wood chair in the corner before sliding in behind her. She smiled, snuggling into him.

"Granger? I think…I…" He paused. He couldn't do it. He couldn't say it.

"Hmmm?" Hermione was halfway to slumber, but she didn't like to leave things unfinished.

"I think I could get used to this." He sighed in frustration and his scar started to burn. It wasn't painful, it was uncomfortable at best and stopped as quickly as it started.

"Let's never stop." Hermione kissed his hand, succumbing to exhaustion.

Draco's thoughts wandered to his interactions with Bill.

_For Bill, it was a relatively easy morning; it was the evenings that hit him the worst. They had Apparated to an uninhabited island off the coast. Bill had slumped onto the ground, tossing his robes behind him, ripping open his shirt, disgusted with the buttons. He stared off into the distance, transfixed by the lilting waves rolling onto the shore._

_ "Distract me." Bill handed Draco the firewhisky bottle roughly._

_ "I'm starving." Draco pulled his robes off, setting them on the damp sand._

_ "Shut it. That's not the least bit helpful and you bloody well know it." Bill growled and Draco made a mental note to never mention food when Bill was feeling 'wolfy'._

_ "Alright then, distract you. I've got a question." He crossed his legs on his robes, watching the moonlight twinkled on the water._

_ "You're not going to rant about Hermione Granger again, are you?" Bill's pale skin shone, making him look especially fierce._

_ "No, but see, I get this sort of pain? A twinge of some sort? And I feel like I'll never be able to catch a full breath of air again. Other times, these words just sort of spill out and I can't make them stop and I wind up saying things I'd never normally say and I don't quite know how to make it stop. What is it?" Draco frowned as Bill's shoulders began shaking with mirth. "It's not funny."_

_ "Draco Malfoy has feelings. No one's ever going to believe me, you realise."_

_ "I don't. Take it back."_

_ "Mate, I've listened to you rant, rave, rage for how many years now? If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say at least three, closer to four I'd wager and it's always about her. Or your father, which somehow always segues back to her. Now that she's not hexing you, punching you, screaming at you, hating you or with Ron for that matter, you've got all these emotions tumbling around inside you…"_

_ "Feelings? Emotions? They…make you feel a bit mental?" Draco interrupted impatiently._

_ "Well, yeah." Bill laughed, feeling the sanity returning to his limbs, the dark, ominous clouds clearing from his mind. "They make you feel a bit off kilter, a little insecure, definitely nervous, with a case of rambling mixed with some of the best heartwarming, soul healing…" Bill paused, a little stumped before giving a half shrug. "It's love."_

_ "Is that what it is? It's ghastly. How do you make it stop?" Draco was appalled. Bill had to be wrong. He loved his mother and didn't feel like this. Bill's raucous laughter stopped his meandering thoughts._

_ "You don't mate."_

_ "Not ever? I'm stuck like…like…this? Forever? Well, that's bloody horrid. I can't…I simply can't…love…Granger. It's impossible! I would know, wouldn't I? Fancied her a bit at Hogwarts I suppose, but that's not the bloody same. She's not the annoying pain in my arse she was then, but that can't mean…I don't Bill, right? I don't even know her! Not…not really, or anythin'. This is ridiculous mate! Ridiculous!"_

_ "Fine," Bill choked, still laughing, "tell me about the Yule Ball."_

_ "The Yule Ball? You said…" Bill waved his hand absently. "Alright then. We were all wearing these incredible dress robes, mine were smashing as usual." Bill rolled his eyes, subtly shaking his head completely nonplussed by his friend's lack of humility._

_ "I saw her come down those stairs. She was a bit late, making some sort of entrance, I suppose. She was wearing this pink sort of dress, with all these layers or whatnot and her hair wasn't that busy mess it usually was, which was quite nice. Pansy closed my jaw with a rude jab, guess it was drooping open a bit or something. I hadn't ever thought of her like an actual…you know…girl or anything before that. She was always just…Granger. Pick me! Pick me! I know all the answers, Granger. Pansy kept shooting daggers at her, didn't like that a bit, then she'd stomp on my bloody feet. As if it were MY fault Granger was absolutely smashing._

_ "She spent most of the night dancing with that wanker, Viktor Krum. I hated him, still do I think. She glanced at me once and I swear my heart stopped. Pansy Parkinson was livid and…" Draco finished off their bottle of firewhisky in a single swallow, gasping as it burned its way down his throat. "Bollocks."_

_ "Now admit it." Bill brushed the sand off his now damp slacks, quite ready to rejoin civilisation._

_ "I can't. I can't…love…Granger. She's….Granger."_

_ "So? The war is over. It's been over. The wizarding world is working toward becoming a more accepting society. You can love anyone you choose. Maybe, if you tell her, I won't have to listen to your mewling anymore. That could be bloody delightful."_

_ "I can't tell her I love her. If she doesn't…she can't. She doesn't even…I'll…" Draco's chest constricted even entertaining the thought of Hermione Granger unable to return his affections. He curled into himself, his hand unconsciously stroking the pain in his chest._

_ "You've got to do something, mate. Otherwise, I'm going to hex you." Bill, feeling the worst was sufficiently over, Disapparated, leaving Draco Malfoy alone on the moonlit beach._

He watched Hermione sleep, struggling with his newfound emotions. He couldn't come to terms with the idea of actually being in love with Hermione Granger. He barely knew her.

That wasn't true.

He did know her. He knew she preferred books over arguments. He knew her first instinct was to rush to the library when faced with a quandary. He knew she was logical, yet when it came to those she loved, there were no bounds to the lengths she would go for them. He knew she returned to Hogwarts for her seventh year when Harry and Ron didn't. He knew she was always too good for Ron Weasley. She was the brightest witch of their year, to his chagrin. He knew she was filled with empathy, which was probably some sort of Muggle thing, but he respected it. He knew she was dedicated to the betterment of Magical Creatures and worked for that Department of the Ministry. He knew she bit the corner of her lip when she was nervous and twirled her hair when she was in deep thought. He knew, as much as he might detest it, Potter and Weasel would always be a part of her life.

Draco Malfoy decided in these moments, while the sun rose on the horizon, his senses were overwhelmed, her scent seeping into his pores; he would never tell her. If he never told her, she could never hurt him by rebuffing his affections. He fell asleep hoping his lips would uphold his decision.

* * *

"Malfoy, I've got to go to my flat. I can't show up at Malfoy Manor in a bloody sheet." Draco shoveled food into his mouth, satisfying the ravenous hunger. He let her chatter, but dismissed her concerns.

"It's fine. I've got something." Hermione wiped the yellow yolk from his chin with a finger.

"Stop talking with your mouth full, it's revolting." Hermione wasn't revolted as much as she was reminded of Ron.

"I'm starving woman!" She winced imperceptibly, doubt hovering, settling in her stomach. Hermione closed her brown eyes for a moment, gulping in panic. She never realised how unhappy she truly was with Ron. She hated having to constantly clean up after him, listen to his pointless ranting, let alone correcting his ridiculous logic at every turn. Part of her felt a twinge of guilt for wishing he were more intelligent than he was.

"You haven't heard a bloody thing I've said." Draco let his dish clatter into the sink basin, tossing a fork in as well. Hermione opened her eyes with a smile.

"Sorry, preoccupied." She stood to clear the table to find it done. "Well that's…I'm…huh." She twisted a stray curl in her fingers.

"I'm not a ruddy slacker." He downed the rest of his coffee, placing the mug on the counter. "Also, I'm not Weasley."

"I never said!"

"Didn't have to. Saw it on your face." The twinge was becoming a regular fixture, which was disconcerting. "C'mon, I picked you up a little something on the way back from Bill."

"A present? You brought me a present?" She disliked the way he made her feel out of sorts. Ron was downright pedestrian in comparison.

Hermione followed Draco through the foyer into a small study off the living area. It was a dark room, yet comforting with its mahogany panels, small windows as well as imposing bookcases to the ceiling. In the center was an oversized dark wood desk, with an upholstered dark green velvet chair set behind it.

Lying over the chair was a silver garment bag. Draco observed Hermione creep toward the bag, curiosity written in her features. She cast furtive glances his way before unzipping the bag.

"Wear it, please?" Draco perceived a feeling of nervousness emanating from her and held his breath while waiting for her answer. He watched her stare at the contents, her long fingers resting over her heart.

"Ohhh." She sighed, tentatively grazing the fabric, almost afraid it would dissolve beneath her fingertips. It shimmered in the faint light, swaying gently when she removed it from the bag. "It's too much…"

"Try it on anyway." Hermione heard the slight tremor to his voice, choosing to ignore it. She whisked the dress from the room in a flutter.

Hermione spun herself in a slow circle in front of the full length mirror. The dress really was exquisite. She was ensconced in a shimmering silver hug. Where her Victory Day Gala dress was still a beautiful concoction, this creation made her feel daring and beautiful. It fell in soft folds just above the rise of her breasts, gathered at the shoulder by the darkest of green flowers. The back plummeted, leaving her entirely exposed to just below her waist, swirling down to her ankle. She felt naked, but knew she would wear it. He really did have impeccable taste.

"Malfoy." His eyes widened as he noticed her slink back into his study. Draco held three boxes in his hands, more to stop the trembling of his limbs than anything.

"It's perfect, here." He couldn't put them down, she'd see and he would do anything to avoid that conversation. She arched an eyebrow, taking the boxes from him, setting them on his desk.

"More? I can't…"

"Granger." Rolling her eyes, she started at the bottom, just as he wished she would. A velvet dark green wrap greeted her upon removing the lid. She gasped, picking it up, rubbing her face against its softness. She did not fail to notice how perfectly it matched the flowers decorating her dress, nor the fact she was adorned in the colours of Slytherin. Draco slipped behind her, draping the wrap over her shoulders.

"Open the next." His whispered words caused a shiver to dance across her skin. Hermione left the smallest box for last, taking instead the medium blue box. She removed the white ribbon with shaking fingers. Nestled amongst the tissue paper was a pair of open toed, dark green slippers with the slightest of heels, completing her ensemble.

"I don't understand. I can't accept any of this. It's too much. It's…"

"Exquisite. Let me…do this for you." Hermione heard his words, heard an inflection in them, yet refused to comprehend.

"Why?" Hermione turned, resting against the smooth edge of his desk, looking into his grey eyes, studying them.

"Because I…" Draco stopped himself, finding a handle on himself. He had no intention of speaking the words screaming in his head. "I simply wish to, besides, not even my father can find fault in this." Lamely he gestured toward her dress.

Hermione knew he was lying. Perhaps not lying exactly, but definitely not telling her everything. Draco felt his scar burn again. It was almost as if he were receiving the lashes once more. He sucked his breath between his teeth, waiting for the sensation to ebb.

"There's another." He leaned over her, picking up the last box. Hermione held it in her hands, turning it over and over, inspecting the long thin box.

"I don't need more." She shook her head, trying to hand it back to him.

"It's not a matter of need Granger, just open it." He exhaled in relief the moment the pain dissipated. Hermione removed the lid ever so slowly, dropping it on the floor upon spying the pendant. She scooped up the contents delicately, as if it would break.

"This is…this is…" She swallowed audibly. Draco took it from her, pushed her hair aside and clasped it around her neck.

"It was my mothers." Hermione stared at the pendant brushing her cleavage. It was beautiful; even she had to admit it. It was a platinum oval pendant, embossed with the Malfoy family crest, surrounded by small sparkling green emeralds.

"I can't accept this." Hermione caught the flicker of hurt in his eyes, before he turned away.

"Think of it as borrowing." He made light of it, but she knew she had hurt him. Hermione lightly fingered the pendant while slipping on the shoes. Everything fit perfectly.

"Malfoy." She stood before him and all he wanted to do was take her right back to bed. "How'd you manage this?"

"She-Potter." He lifted his right shoulder in a half shrug.

"Ginny? She helped you? I'm…shocked, honestly."

"So was I. I think Bill said things he shouldn't have said." He opened the wardrobe hidden in a small nook, removing dark green dress robes.

"Like what? What could Bill have possibly said to make Ginny…agreeable?" Hermione paced the room in awe of how the slippers contoured to her feet.

"Granger, you're doing it again." She huffed.

"Isn't it a bit early to dress?" Hermione was always adept in changing the conversations to suit her needs.

"It's nearly five. We're to meet She-Potter and Bill in nary an hour, unless you'd rather be a bit late?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh! Malfoy you're incorrigible! I'm going to the Burrow. I need to do something with my hair. You…you just finish your toilet." She edged away from him, knowing if she didn't leave, she wasn't going to. Draco caught her easily, forcefully covering her lips with his own, his tongue probing her mouth insistently.

"Go. I'll be seeing you Granger."


	17. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: As awesome as I might be...I'm still not JK and I still don't own Harry Potter. Guess I'll simply have to settle for playing with her toys.**

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**AN: Dear Readers: Have I told you lately that I love you? Cuz I do, cuz yannow..you're awesome and stuff. *kisses***

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Chapter 16

"How did we let ourselves be talked into this disaster?" A china cup shattered on the wall behind his wife. With lazy eyes she watched her husband pace madly around their conservatory. She was used to such outbursts from both her husband and her prodigal son.

"It's necessary. Do you wish to see your son? He would never deign to step foot within these walls again if it weren't for the summons. Behave yourself Lucius. I will not see you drive him away…again. It's your error which has brought us to this. House arrest, Merlin, I suppose it's better than the alternative, however you've only yourself to blame." Narcissa Malfoy was a regal sort of woman. Her stoic stance intimidated most witches and wizards to the point of avoidance.

"No, I do not wish to see him if The Daily Prophet is accurate in the sort of company he's been keeping." Lucius Malfoy whipped open his black robes, producing the paper he'd kept hidden from his wife.

Narcissa hissed, her blue eyes boring through the front page. Her son decorated the cover, the filthy Mudblood Granger draped in his arms. The moving picture caught their secluded moments on the veranda of the Victory Day Gala.

She tamped down her anger effortlessly. She would do anything, anything at all for her son, though accepting Hermione Granger left an unpleasant taste in her mouth. She flung the paper into the fireplace, feeling a sense of satisfaction watching it burn.

"He's our son, Lucius, our only son." Narcissa was not above pleading.

"He deserted us. We made him a perfectly acceptable match. Astoria Greengrass is a delightful girl from a pureblood wizarding family and he rejected her! And for what? For that piece of filth?" Lucius Malfoy spat upon the floor in derision. As much as Lucius Malfoy had changed, he'd stayed the same. He still enjoyed the draw of the Dark Arts, though he was vigilant in keeping such things hidden. Part of him regretted defecting from The Dark Lord, but perhaps the life of his son **was** invaluable. He detested admitting for even a nanosecond his wife was potentially correct.

"You don't understand, of course. You are incapable of grasping the lingering effects of my sister. It is beyond your infinitesimally narrow minded thinking to comprehend their gravity, Lucius." Narcissa Malfoy would never be truly accepting of the path her son had chosen, yet she would defend him to her dying breath.

"Your sister? Merlin's beard, what does she have to do with any of this?" Narcissa glowered at her exceptionally thick spouse, her blue eyes flashing with anger.

"Perhaps if you spent as much time observing your environment as you do ensconced in the library scouring your impressive collection of Dark Arts tomes, you would have SEEN!" Lucius gulped guiltily.

"You knew? How…"

"And still," Narcissa continued, ignoring his interruption, "we're still stubbornly rooted in the subject of you. You'll never change, Lucius. As much as I love you, I hate you." Her fists were clenched, a rumble in her chest bubbling forth, while Lucius was still completely oblivious to the meaning behind her words. She could see him trying to piece together the simplest of puzzles. She finally saw the realization lighten his dull, pale face.

"Your sister, Bellatrix? Of course Bellatrix, Andromeda is a blood traitor after all. Bellatrix did something to my son? You knew of this? You did not bother to inform me? Was it on the order of The Dark Lord?" He was so very close and yet, all thoughts reverted back to himself.

"The Dark Lord knew nothing of our arrangement." Narcissa dug her long fingernails into her palm in trepidation.

"Your arrangement, you and Bellatrix, interesting." Lucius started through the large glass wall into their garden, attempting to remember anything particularly extraordinary in Narcissa and Bellatrix's dealings with each other. Near the end of The Dark Lord's reign of insanity, they were barely civil to each other, yet a particular moment slowly rose to the surface, clouded in uncertainty.

_Lucius Malfoy lazily observed his wife and her sister ensconced in deep conversation before Narcissa's blonde locks disappeared. He hid along a corner, unwilling to allow himself to be seen. He practiced the art of remaining unobserved in plain sight, it was necessary with The Dark Lord commandeering the Manor. He spied Bellatrix Lestrange glance quickly over her shoulder before scurrying through the same dark door his wife had ventured. 'The dungeon', his lips moving silently, curiosity significantly piqued. Lucius knew he could not avoid detection once he descended the stone steps. He cracked the heavy oak door, pressing his ear to the opening._

_ "Mother? Why are you here? I thought…" Narcissa hissed, her son quieting immediately. _

_ "Do it, do it now, you must hurry." There was a quiet desperation to his wife's words, causing Lucius to frown heavily in distrust._

_ "Are you sure, Cissy? You must be absolutely sure. You must never speak of this." Bellatrix hissed loudly, her words reverberating in the dank space._

_ "Please, Bella. He's my only son. I beg of you…"_

_ "Draco, darling, sit. Clasp my arm. Repeat my words." Feet stomping through the foyer startled Lucius. He shut the door quietly, scurrying toward the garden. No one would suspect him of anything untoward in the garden. He didn't have time to reflect upon his eavesdropping. His life was more important than whatever scheme his meddling wife and mental sister-in-law was brewing._

"You didn't." Narcissa exhaled, letting the air captured in her lungs escape. "Do you know how dangerous that is? You could have killed him. Does he know? Of course he doesn't know. He was but a child. How could you do that to a child? Let alone do it to our child, Narcissa?!" She stalked across the room, slapping her husband soundly across each cheek, leaving red splotches on his pale features.

"I didn't have a choice! He was never going to defect. He would have followed The Dark Lord to the ends of the earth. He would have followed YOU. And you Lucius, were not man enough to stand up for your family. You were a coward. I did not wish for my only son to die in a war he didn't even believe in, for the likes of you or anyone else for that matter. So yes, Bellatrix and I…we…did what we could to save his life, his soul. I don't regret it, not for a moment." Lucius wipes a drop of his wife's spittle from his bottom lip.

"And if he chooses her? I feel sick. You've betrayed me."

"So be it!" Narcissa left the conservatory with a sense of motherly love riddled with guilt and disgust.

* * *

Hermione allowed Molly to fuss over her a bit in absence of her own mother. She was surprised to note, Molly stared at the pendant openly but refrained from commenting on it. Instead, she busied herself and Ginny as well, in arranging an acceptable coif to Hermione's unruly hair.

"Really Molly, it's wonderful." Molly manipulated Hermione's head searching for errant curls.

"Such a shame my Ron couldn't hold onto the fine woman you've become." Hermione caught Molly wiping away a few spilt tears and caught her hand.

"Ohh Molly, it's not your fault. You'll always be my family." Hermione embraced her surrogate mother, holding her tight.

"He's just…so stupid."

"I know, Molly, believe me, I know." Molly laughed suddenly, kissing Hermione's cheek.

"Yes dearie, I believe you do. Enough of this. We'll muss up your hair, can't have that." Molly patted Hermione's up-do with a small smile, holding a hand mirror in front of her. Hermione gasped. Her hair fell in soft ringlets around her face, piled upon her head with a multitude of tiny, twinkling hair pins in shades of green and silver.

"I wish you were coming." Hermione spoke without thinking. "No, wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way." Molly clucked her tongue, straightening Hermione's wrap.

"As grateful as I am we weren't summoned, I'm sorry you'll be subjected to Lucius Malfoy. Best hurry along dear, the boys will be here in a few moments." Hermione's heart fluttered with nervousness.

"The boys? I thought we were meeting them…"

"Harry and Bill decided we'd gather here. I'm sure it had absolutely nothing to do with my outburst in that ruddy field." Ginny tapped her foot impatiently. "Besides, I think mum wanted to have a good look at Malfoy. Mum, she's fine, stop. Harry's going to be in a state if we're not ready." Molly ignored the ramblings of her youngest child and only daughter. She patted Hermione's hair once more, gave her a once over before spritzing her with a decidedly floral scent and declared her presentable.

"Take it with you." Molly pressed the small glass perfume bottle into Hermione's hands. "I know it's your favourite." With a quick smile of thanks, Hermione opened the door to the Burrow to see Bill, Harry and Draco coming down the hill.

"They're here! Ginny!" Molly pulled Hermione behind her, her arms crossed, watching the boys approach. Ginny stood beside her mother, obscuring Malfoy's view of Hermione.

"Mum, hello." Bill knew he didn't have a hope or a prayer in distracting Molly Weasley from her purpose, but he figured it couldn't hurt to be amicable.

"Yes, Bill, I see you, go inside for a moment and take Harry with you. I need to have a word with **him**." Draco stopped short before backing slowly away from the angry red headed woman brandishing her wand in his direction.

"Mum, don't maim him." Harry kissed Ginny before hugging Hermione tight.

"Ron's missing out." Ginny elbowed him, hard.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?!" Bill laughed, shutting the door, hoping his mum wouldn't be too hard on his friend.

Molly stalked toward Draco Malfoy with her eyes narrowed. He was honestly a bit frightened of her. He remembered seeing her fight in the Battle of Hogwarts. He didn't want to be on the wrong end of her wand.

"Mrs. Weasley." He nodded respectfully, deciding it was his best recourse. She stopped, lowering her wand slightly.

"I tend to believe my children, Mr. Malfoy. Bill said you've been a good friend to him in his times of need. I appreciate that, however, Ron is convinced you're still a bit of a git. Hermione Granger is family. She's been through enough without you adding to the havoc. Keep that in mind. I'm trusting you with my family. Don't make me regret it." Without another word, she spun on her heel, heading back to the Burrow. Draco Malfoy wasn't quite sure if he should stay where he was or follow. He decided standing still was probably the best decision.

"Come on then! We haven't all night!" Molly Weasley demanded and Draco Malfoy decided whatever Molly Weasley wanted, she could have.

When Hermione Granger stepped out of the Burrow, Draco Malfoy thought his heart was going to stop. He was aware of Molly Weasley staring him down out of the corner of his eye, but he only had eyes for Hermione.

"Hope you didn't scare him too much, Mum." Bill nudged his mother with a half smile.

"So it's like that, is it?" Molly gestured toward Hermione and Draco. They were standing a few feet from each other, silently. Bill chuckled lightly.

"Most definitely." Molly sighed dramatically.

"Such a shame, she would have given me beautiful grandchildren." She shook her head in misplaced sadness.

"Come you two! Move!" Ginny was screaming again. Draco wondered if there was ever a time she wasn't angry.

With a flourish, Draco offered is arm to Hermione. She smiled tentatively, taking it. He felt the emptiness ebbing, replaced by warmth and even…contentment.

"Ready?" He leaned down to whisper in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

"No." He squeezed her hand.

"Me either." Bill suddenly felt as if he were the odd man out, though he didn't mind if it meant keeping his wife far from Malfoy Manor.

"Oi! Malfoy! Move it!" Ginny and Harry were almost to the top of the hill. Harry kept dragging Ginny along, whispering furiously.

"Sorry, she's a bit…" Harry attempted to apologise for his wife.

"Uptight? Angry? Impatient? All of the above?" Draco easily supplied, finding it incredibly simple to wheedle Ginny. Harry massaged his temples, Bill rolled his eyes and Ginny grabbed Draco's arm, yanking him to the side, angrily of course.

"Malfoy, I want to talk to you." He was thankful her wand remained wherever it was hidden in her red dress. Personally, he believed it clashed ridiculously with her hair, but who was he to say?

"I gathered that…"

"Listen, Hermione is my best friend. If you hurt her…"

"I'm aware She-Potter, Bat-Bogey Hex straight to my naughty bits."

"DON'T GIVE HER IDEAS!" Harry yelled from the slight distance. Ginny on the other hand, invaded Draco's personal space. It was entirely too close for his comfort, yet he managed to maintain his composure.

"Also, if little demon seeds start running around before you've made an honest woman of her? I'll petition the Minister himself. He's a close family friend. Watch yourself Malfoy." Ginny started back to her brother and husband, but Draco's pale hand grasped her wrist.

"Gin…Gin…Ugh, I can't do it. She-Potter, calm yourself. I have no intention of…of any of those things. I…I lo..I care about her." His mouth almost did that horrible running away with itself thing again. Ginny's entire demeanor changed. Her shoulders relaxed, her eyes softened and she smiled. She-Potter smiled at Draco Malfoy.

"Oh, you love her. You're never going to hear the end of this now. Eventually you're going to spill how it came about." Ginny faced the sky, filling the air with her peals of laughter.

"Bollocks, Ginny knows. He's screwed." Harry discovered he was on the outside looking in. He kicked Bill's shin, attempting to regain his attention. Bill hovered over him, keeping his eyes on Hermione, whispering the answer to the unasked question.

"Bollocks." Harry echoed.


	18. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: If I were JK Rowling, I could probably get away with murder. Instead, I get to play with my favourite characters and remain penniless. Yay.**

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**Ridiculously Long Author's Note: Please feel free to skip this, it's not for you…not really, it's for me. **

**#1 - I'd forgotten there were nasty people in the world. How silly of me! For a moment, I forgot I was writing purely for my OWN pleasure instead of the appeasement others.  
#2 – If one is going to attempt to be insulting, at least have the decency to actually read the Chapter prior to jumping to completely ridiculous and also wrong conclusions.  
#3 -Ginny is a fiery, angry Weasley…she's going to stay that way, I don't care if you don't like it (please see #1)  
#4 – The summons is explained in more detail in this chapter and if someone else asks why it couldn't be held somewhere else I'm just going to keep saying HOUSE ARREST as was mentioned in the previous chapter.  
#5 - Why are you still reading this? Stop it. It's only here because I detest even numbers.**

**P.S. - .16 - this one's for you. *kisses***

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Chapter 17

"There are wards around the Manor. We can't Apparate there directly. We can get close, rather I can get close. The closest you lot could get is probably the grove." Draco Malfoy was rambling, consumed with nerves.  
"I'm sure Lucius has arranged some sort of transport." Kingsley Shacklebolt was a formidable man, regardless of the fact he's currently the Minister for Magic.  
"Something horrid and degrading knowing my father." Kingsley slapped Draco's back in what was supposed to be comfort but felt more like abuse.

"Kings, I don't understand why we're here, at Malfoy Manor, I mean." Harry scratched his head, mussing his unkempt hair. "You're the Minister. I mean, sure Lucius is on bloody house arrest, but if you can't bend the rules for the comfort of others, who can?" He gestured toward Hermione, meaningfully.

"If you weren't Harry Potter…" Kingsley growled.

"Yea, but I am." Harry wiggled his eyebrows attempting to diffuse the tension.

"I am of the opinion; it would be easier to…entice Lucius Malfoy if he were at ease."

"And also trapped, you forgot that bit. He can't leave so he has to listen to you. It's almost brilliant besides the fact I don't make a habit of revisiting crime scenes. No offense, Malfoy."

"None taken, Potter." Draco was mildly impressed. Harry Potter might not be the brightest of the Golden Trio, but it seemed he had no qualms when it came to confronting the Minister.

The group of wizards continued walking toward the grove in their finery, noting the conspicuous silence of a disgruntled Minister. The instant they passed through the imposing iron gate and the first set of trees, the rest of them shimmered to life. Twinkling silver and green lights greeted the visitors. Directly before them was a row of hovering brooms.

Kingsley Shacklebolt pulled his little blue cap tightly onto his head, before climbing astride one of the brooms. Instantly he was pulled up and forward, unable to control neither the speed nor the destination. Once he was airborne, another appeared in its place. Harry, Bill and Ginny took their places while Hermione hung back. George Weasley's foot ceased her retreat.

"Thanks, didn't need two feet anyway, manage with one ear." George smiled before hopping onto a broom.

"Granger, come here. We'll go together." Draco Malfoy remembered her fear of flying. There wasn't much he forgot when it came to Hermione Granger. She allowed him to lead her to the last two brooms. She moved to stand beside the other when he stopped her. He bent a knee, placing it on the broom, his other foot firmly planted on the ground. Snaking an arm around her waist, he settled her in front of him.

"I can't do this." Her words trembled almost as much as her body.

"Sure you can. You can do anything." Draco impulsively kissed her brow. He kicked off the ground lightly. Hermione closed her eyes, prepared to scream when she realised they remained lower than the tree tops, unlike the other flyers.

"How?" Hermione was still frightened, but it wasn't the full on terror she expected.

"I'm a Malfoy. If I give away all my secrets how am I supposed to keep you?" He laughed, kissing her cheek. The truth was it was ridiculously difficult for him to keep the broom at its current height. It wanted to soar above the grove as it was instructed, but he wasn't proficient in non-verbal magic without cause. As much as he was tortured by his Aunt Bellatrix, he was also taught, which if he was being honest with himself was incredibly handy at times.

They were the last to arrive before Malfoy Manor. Draco's eyes narrowed when he saw his parents side by side, welcoming their guests, but their eyes were trained on him.

"Here goes nothing." Draco Malfoy swallowed a deep breath, tucked Hermione's hand in the crook of his elbow and they ascended the marble steps.

"Draco." Lucius greeted his son, their grey eyes meeting as the animosity flowed freely between them.

"Father." Draco nodded curtly. Hermione didn't expect Lucius Malfoy to acknowledge her existence and she was not disappointed. However, Narcissa was another matter. The tall blonde woman would not stop staring at her pendant. Her lips were pressed firmly together even as disdain oozed off her.

"Draco." Narcissa embraced her son, holding him fast. Hermione was quite surprised to see a tear shimmering on the cold woman's cheek. She turned to Hermione. "And your guest?" She smiled, but it did not reach her clear blue eyes.

"Mother, you're perfectly aware this is Hermione Granger." He patted her hand, replacing her hand within the crook of his elbow.

"Oh yes, please, join your…_friends._ I would like a word with my son, I'm sure you don't mind." Narcissa turned her back with an arched eyebrow, seemingly daring her to mind as the matriarch dismissed her. Hermione looked to Draco. He nodded subtly and swallowing, she continued toward the French doors.

"You've made your choice?" Narcissa hissed, her long red fingernails grasping his shoulder. Coolly, Draco met his mother's eyes.

"Obviously." He wished Hermione would go inside, but he saw her just inside the French doors, her hand on the glass, watching him.

"I assumed so, she's wearing my pendant."

"You gave it to me." Draco did not wish to engage his mother's wrath nor continue this conversation.

"For Astoria Greengrass upon the announcement of your engagement, not for…not for…"

"Don't say it." Narcissa threw her hands into the air.

"Do you…_love_…her? You couldn't possibly! You barely know the…_girl_." Narcissa struggled to avoid calling the girl a Mudblood, against her better judgement.

Hermione was distracted by conversations with Harry and George but her head whipped around upon hearing the question. It took every ounce of Draco Malfoy's self control to keep his face a stoic mask of noninformation.

"I never said I lo…" He sucked his breath through his teeth, doubling over in immense pain. "I'm not going to discuss this now, Mother." He managed to gasp.

"Malfoy!" Hermione rushed to his side, her hand lying lightly on his back. Narcissa and Lucius retreated slowly, watching the scene before them unfold. Hermione murmured encouragement, offering her shoulder for Draco to lean upon, which he rejected. He stood with difficulty, locking eyes with his parents. Hermione chattered nervously, placing a palm upon his forehead. He arched an eyebrow in silent challenge as he tugged Hermione against him, kissing her upturned, welcoming lips.

"Oh Lucius, he does! Whatever shall we do?" Lucius snorted, kissed his wife's cheek and smiled.

"It's your mess my dear. You clean it."

* * *

Sometime after the seven course feast provided by the Malfoys, squeezed between Draco and Bill, Hermione felt entirely out of sorts. Draco seemed to be occupied in a silent argument with his father. Narcissa patted each of their hands, her icy blue eyes languishing, being trapped between her husband and son.

Hermione escaped into their garden when the moment presented itself. She was pleasantly surprised by the chill in the air. A few moments later, she heard footsteps behind her but remained still, staring into the inky darkness of night.

"Did you enjoy the brooms? I requisitioned them especially for you." Lucius Malfoy's silky, snake-like words broke through the silence.

"Of course you did." Hermione quipped easily.

"Do you think you have anyone fooled?" His voice was smooth as honey, but Hermione knew better than to trust the viper.

"Whatever do you mean?" She really hadn't the slightest.

"For being the brightest witch of your age, you're not very smart are you?" He picked imaginary lint from his robes as if being in close proximity to her was defiling.

"Is there a point to this?" Hermione sounded bored. She was, but it intrigued Lucius to watch her hands tremble.

"You'll never be enough for him." He threw his best scathing scowl in her direction and still, she remained unfazed.

"It must enrage you to think your son does not hold with your prejudices. How you must lay awake cursing my very existence; when I think of you…not at all."

"How dare you..."

"What's going on out here?" Draco ruined the moment. For a second, Lucius was almost impressed with her composure.

"Nothing Malfoy, your father was simply insulting me; which really, is nothing new and quite honestly paled in comparison to his previous barbs." She smiled sweetly at Lucius, taking Draco's hand.

"Father, the Minister for Magic is requesting our presence." He squeezed Hermione's hand a little too hard, drawing her inside. Lucius thumped his ivory handled cane on the slate, dammed if he would admit to being bested by a Mudblood.

"Lucius. Narcissa. The Ministry wished to convey its' thanks upon hosting this evening. I'm sure you're all wondering why you have been summoned. It's simple really. The Ministry wished to repair relationships which have been damaged through generations of prejudice and hatred.

"If it were not for the actions of Draco Malfoy during the war, his albeit, unorthodox aid to the Order of the Phoenix by providing life saving information, we would not be here this evening. Notwithstanding of course, the sacrifice of our loved ones and Harry Potter himself." Kingsley Shacklebolt's brown face broke into a wide grin. Draco was thankful Kingsley refrained from patting his back. It hadn't yet recovered from the last contact.

"We've also elected to convene a special task force. There have been some rumblings in the remaining Dark Arts community which has reached our ears. It's not a difficult job or even a particularly dangerous one, however we require a special expertise and after special consideration we concluded the witches and wizards gathered here are the best for the task."

"Wouldn't Aurors be better suited for such things? Is it mandatory to participate?" Hermione Granger's lone voice broke out amongst the curious and somewhat angry faces.

"No, Ms Granger, we're not going to force anyone to do anything they do not wish to do. While I do not take kindly to my methods being challenged, it is a valid question. Our Aurors are trained to provide protection of a sort and bring witches and wizards to justice, after the fact of wrong doing. What we're attempting to achieve is a softer hand, if you will, to lead us through the Dark Magic underground…"

"A preventative measure then?" Hermione interrupted and Kingsley took a deep cleansing breath so as not to shout at her.

"Exactly Ms Granger. If I may continue?" He waited for her curt nod, his raised eyebrows mocking her. "As I was saying, we're not in the habit of forcing anyone to comply with our wishes." Kingsley pointed ignored Draco's exaggerated cough. "We would appreciate your expertise in research, Ms. Granger. Mr. and Mrs. Potter, we're aware you have young children at home and as we are striving toward a more accepting society, we do not wish to leave any child an orphan, no matter how slight the chances may be. We're requesting a discussion to determine which of you is up to the task? Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy…"

"He'll do it." Narcissa interrupted, her blue eyes daring Lucius to defy her.

"I most certainly will not!" Lucius argued indignantly.

"You. Will." Narcissa hissed under her breath. Lucius remained silent, yet nodded curtly when Kingsley raised his dark eyebrows.

"Why only one of us?" Ginny interjected without malice, yet obviously wary.

"As I said Mrs. Potter, safety precautions." Kingsley Shacklebolt adjusted his colourful robes, "In the near future, it might be necessary to…join forces with the Aurors and…" He left his words hanging, yet everyone understood their implications.

"No. I'm not doing it. Sorry Minister, but my mum would have my head. Besides, I've done enough to last me a lifetime. I've lost my brother and my ear and I've a business to run. I've made enough sacrifices for the sake of the betterment of the wizarding world and I'm going to be selfish now." George Weasley was adamant. It was understandable. He had no intention of ever returning to the fray. To further punctuate his point, he walked out the double doors of Malfoy Manor without another word to anyone.

"I'll do it." Harry volunteered which surprised no one, not even his wife. All eyes fell on Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, the only two still undecided.

"We've got to think about it." Draco answered for Hermione and she willingly let him take the lead. She didn't want to think about any of it. She wanted to go home. The Minister for Magic was exceptionally uncomfortable by Draco's declaration. He hadn't prepared for this particular contingency.

"The Ministry thanks you for your consideration." Shacklebolt felt a sense of relief. They had accepted the declaration. They were wary, but he expected that much. There was no need to inform them his handpicked group of witches and wizards was completely unnecessary.

The Wizengamot was restless and demanded action. What better way to appease the aging group of stuffy lawmakers than to create a diversion? Surely even the Wizengamot would not be able to refute the celebrity of Harry Potter and his most trusted allies. Perhaps this sly maneuver would also be perfect for keeping a much needed eye on Lucius Malfoy. Lucius wasn't fooling anyone with his barely contained rage.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, contrary to current popular opinion, was no fool. He desperately wished to maintain his position as Minister and it was impossible without appeasing the Wizengamot. If he needed to channel his inner Dumbledore, so be it.

"Ready to go, love?" Draco turned to Hermione, watching her tug the corner of her lip with her teeth, while simultaneously twirling a curl around her fingers.

"Draco." Narcissa overheard his question, perturbed with her son's exuberance to vacate the Manor. "May I have a word?" Draco's grey eyes were instantly cold and empty. Hermione would have been frightened of him if she hadn't known it was in direct correlation to his mother.

"Send an owl Mother. It's been a long evening." He pulled Hermione into his arms and kissed her forehead. "Hang on, love."

He smiled at the gasp of his parents, with a wave he Disapparated them from the Malfoy Manor conservatory, to the great chagrin of his mother.

Harry scowled. Bill prodded his ribs snickering.

"You might not like him, but even you have to admit, Malfoy's got style."

"He's still a bit of a wanker." Harry grumbled.

"A wanker with style."

* * *

"I know I can't order you not to do it, but I'd really rather prefer you didn't. You and I both know my father is involved. He's been a bit barmy since the fall of the Dark Lord." Draco propped his muddy boots on the dark wood coffee table. He intentionally ignored Hermione's gasp of utter horror.

"Why do you call him that?" The words were sharp, almost an accusation.

"Uch, it's just habit. When you hear Voldemort referred to as The Dark Lord your entire bloody life, it just sort of…sticks with you, whether you wish it would or not, no matter. Stop analyzing my intentions, Granger." Hermione's lips parted as if to refute the accusation, instead she deftly changed the subject.

"I'm sure the Minister doesn't expect me to do much other than research. I'm really good at research. I wouldn't have to…round up remaining Death Eaters or anything of that nature." Draco knew he didn't stand a chance of convincing her otherwise.

Hermione's eyes sparkled with simply the thought of delving into books which hadn't seen the light of day in decades. He examined her stance near the large window. She pulled the dark gray striped draperies open, the moonlight wafting throughout the living space. Hermione chewed the corner of her lip raw and Draco knew she was absorbed contemplating where to start her new task.

"You're doing it again." Though his eyes were closed, he knew Hermione's lips were moving while she formulated internal lists of required texts, probabilities and other such nonsense.

"I can't help it Malfoy, you know I can't." Hermione looked downright petulant, the sleeves of Draco's forest green robe pooling at her wrists.

"Pudding, want it. Put the dress back on, Granger."

"How can you possibly be hungry after the feast at your parent's?" She fingered the pendant, still star gazing.

"Didn't say I was hungry, said I wanted pudding. C'mon Granger, we'll stop by your flat after." Draco held her dress on one long finger, dangling it in front of her.

"My flat? Whatever for?" Hermione let the robe slide to the floor, stepping into the silver creation.

"If you're going to insist on accepting the task from the Ministry, I'm going to insist you stay here. Ah ah, no protesting allowed. It's my condition. Granger, it's safe here_." It would make me feel better. I don't want you to leave. Stay with me._ Draco bit his tongue, drawing a bit of blood in order to keep his thoughts as thoughts.

"You do have an impressive library…" He smiled, knowing the decision had been made.

"You practically bought the entire patisserie!" Hermione laughed, running across Draco Malfoy's field of grass, a smudge of chocolate gateau on the tip of her nose.

"I like pudding!" He chased her, intent on smearing more of the concoction across her cheeks. Draco tackled her, sending her sprawling onto her stomach. She squealed and struggled while he flipped her onto her back, smearing specks of chocolate down her nose.

"No more!" Peals of laughter decorated the night sky. Draco pecked her nose, licking a bit of frosting off the tip. "Oh no! Malfoy, we didn't go to my flat!" He shrugged lightly, pointing his wand at her.

"Scourgify. I sent Hattie to collect your things. They're waiting for you inside." Hermione struggled to sit up, shoving him away.

"Hattie?" Her dark eyes narrowed warily.

"My house-elf. Don't start, Granger." He brushed the clinging pieces of grass from his slacks, holding a hand out to her.

"You have a house-elf? How could you?!" Hermione slapped his hand brutally, obviously angry.

"Come on then." He ignored her outrage, dragging her to her feet, yanking her toward his residence. Hermione fumed, muttering angrily while attempting to extricate herself. When Draco pushed open the heavy front door, a petite house-elf stood on the other side. She smiled, flicking her incredibly large floppy ears, her monstrous bulbous blue eyes looking out of place on her tiny frame. He stepped aside with a smirk, crossing his arms as Hermione stared.

"When I was a small child, I thought house-elves were playmates my parents bought me. I hadn't met Crabbe or Goyle yet so I wanted to have a bit of fun. I had overheard my mother lamenting to my father that they never had a little girl." Draco walked slow circles around the teeny house-elf and Hermione. "I went into my mother's chest, without her permission of course and pulled out a monstrous lacy white dress. At least, I thought it was a dress and my mother's favourite pillbox hat. I dressed up Hattie here and presented her to my parents." Hermione snorted, imagining Narcissa and Lucius spying a house-elf draped in a lace tablecloth and a green pillbox hat.

"I'd never heard my mother scream so loudly. My father was absolutely furious. I couldn't sit down for a week but I still didn't bloody understand what the big deal was. House-elves were instructed to stay away from me. Hattie was sent away. She cried a bit, but when I had this place built, I tracked her down. She was miserable. Imagine trying to find employment as a free elf? I brought her here." Draco sighed dramatically while bowing.

"You freed a house-elf." Hermione dabbed the corners of her eyes, her frame shaking with laughter.

"Not on purpose! I didn't know better!" Hermione's face lit up with delight as she stopped in front of the house-elf.

"Hello Hattie. I'm…"

"Ohhh Mrs. Malfoy!" Hattie bent herself in half. Hermione's chin dropped, Draco's eyes bulged, the pendant around Hermione's throat swaying slightly.

"I'm not…"

"She's not…" Hattie squeaked, her ears folding over themselves, her limbs trembling. Draco couldn't find his voice. Hermione cleared her throat, waiting for Hattie to uncover her bulbous eyes.

"Hattie, whatever made you think such a thing?" With trembling long brown fingers, Hattie poked the pendant bearing the Malfoy Family crest.

"Mistress Malfoy sayes things 'bout it." Hattie's timid falsetto voice shook in fear.

"It's alright. No need to be frightened. Come, tell me what she said." Hermione took Hattie's minuscule hand in her own, leading her toward the paisley settee. Years of tortuous practice presented a completely composed, albeit emotionally closed, Draco Malfoy casually leaning against the stone windowsill. For a moment, Hermione thought perhaps he was completely apathetic, until his hand began twitching with anxiety.

"She sayes mustn't never touch it. She says it Master Draco's. She sayes it stays in the box. She sayes it cames from Master Lucius mother's mother's mother's mother. It gets gived to first sons and it gets gived to they mates. She sayes…"

"That's enough Hattie." Through clenched teeth the words were spat, seething with barely contained fury. Draco's hands visibly shook, attempting to contain the storm within him. Hermione went to him instantly, drawing his white knuckled fists to her lips.

"Tell me then." Hermione Granger would never let this go, he knew it. With a pained groan, he unclenched his fists, threading her fingers through his and ambled toward the settee. He pulled Hermione into his lap, pressing her head against his shoulder. She shifted herself slightly, resting her lips against the crook of his neck, an arm casually slung around his waist.

"It's old magic. Not Dark Magic necessarily, though I'm not really sure. It's obviously quite before my time." He paused, waving Hattie away. Hermione could hear her tiny feet shuffling across the hardwood floors.

"Some ancient relative had it commissioned, charmed and embossed with the family crest. I never thought much of it. My mother wore it all through my childhood. Most of the portraits in the Manor house women wearing it. I never saw her without it, frankly. When I came of age, my mother gave it to me. She told me its history and I shoved it in a drawer intending to never utilise it." Hermione spun the chain around and around her neck, studying it intently.

"There's not a clasp. How did you put it on me without a clasp?"

"There was a clasp. Once I closed it around your neck, it sort of…well, it…it disappeared. I imagine if you really wanted me to, I could remove it." Hermione toyed with it, spinning it in circles, turning it to and fro. She thought it was her vivid imagination which made her feel as if her heart were breaking into thousands of tiny shards whenever she drew the pendant away from her skin. Draco Malfoy knew better.


	19. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: Ugh these things are so effing tedious. This is ridiculous. None of us are JK Rowling. None of us own Harry Potter. We're all playing with other people's toys hence why we're on facfic. **

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**AN: I'm having difficulty editing my remaining chapters cuz...I forgot to tie up a loose end...cuz I didn't CARE about it, but apparently from comments the question of the day is 'what is Kingsley Shacklebolt thinking'...well crap. SO I can't guarantee a chapter a day until I sort everything out. Don't hate me.**

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Chapter 18

The days turned into weeks, which segued into months, which is how Ginny Potter and Hermione Granger found themselves in the orchard behind the Burrow, lounging on a red plaid blanket. Bill and Fleur chased their daughter Victoire in the tall grasses while Harry bounced James in his arms.

"I can't believe Neville Longbottom owled me in the middle of the night no less, to tell me about the healing properties of Snargaluff pods!"

"Snargaluff pods have healing properties?" Ginny scrunched her nose unpleasantly.

"Of course not! Neville is grasping at straws since no one has managed to uncover anything of use!" Hermione huffed, pulling plates from the magically enhanced picnic basket.

"Went to your flat yesterday. Seems it's not your flat anymore, imagine that." Ginny casually commented while the friends arranged the lunch spread. Hermione blushed, dropping a container of Molly Weasley's potato salad.

"Well, uhm, it was silly to hold onto it really. I'm never there."

"And you didn't bother to tell anyone. Not ashamed are you?" Ginny ribbed her friend, nudging her shoulder.

"Of course not, Ginny! It's just…it's just…"

"I'm teasing." There wasn't ever a time when Ginny was comfortable with Hermione Granger's unease. "How is it then?" Hermione settled herself against the rough bark of a tree, a languid smile plastered on her face.

"It's well, it's wonderful really. He's just so…and it makes me…and…" Ginny laughed lightly behind her hand, her eyes set upon something in the distance.

"So you love him then? Hermione Granger is in love with Draco Malfoy?" Ginny prodded none too gently.

"No! Well…I think I… Sometimes he's completely infuriating, yet most of the time he's just…" Hermione sighed deeply. Ginny scooted closer toward her friend, her hand raised behind the bark of the tree, but Hermione wasn't paying attention to her antics. She chewed the corner of her lip, eyes downcast.

"Yes." She sighed, "Desperately."

"You going to tell him?" Ginny wiggled her eyebrows behind the tree.

"Absolutely not! What if he doesn't? What if it ruins everything? I can't." Hermione's chest heaved, her heart pounding in her ears. She gasped suddenly as her scar burned down her back, causing tears to leap into her eyes. Ginny stared at the sky, not for the first time that day, nor the last. She shrugged, missing Hermione's pain.

"Idiots, the lot of you. Hello Malfoy." With a wave, Ginny ran through the tall grasses, scooping her son from Harry's arms.

Draco Malfoy heard every word of Ginny and Hermione's conversation, yet he didn't feel the elation he thought he would upon discovering he was loved. He felt empty. He felt unworthy. He continuously lived every day with Hermione waiting for her to come to her senses and leave him.

He allowed Hermione a moment to collect herself before sitting beside her in the damp grass, throwing his arm around her shoulders as she refused to look at him.

"Hello, love." He kissed her cheek quickly, almost as an afterthought. He gestured toward Bill and Harry. "I don't understand the obsession with children. They're loud. They're dirty. They smell. Horrid little creatures, really." Draco decided the best course of action when dealing with an awkward silence was to pretend it didn't exist. Hermione slapped his chest.

"We were all children once, Malfoy. I think it's beautiful." The shine in her eyes unnerved him a bit.

"So abusive. You've been spending too much time with She-Potter." Hermione smiled, her eyes never leaving Victoire Weasley. Draco's gaze meandered down Hermione's torso, noting with appreciation her crisp, light blue button up was untucked from her gray slacks. Cautiously, he watched his fingers dance upon the hem of her blouse, carefully unclasping the bottom button and the one above it. While she laughed from some antic or another, he slid his hand inside her blouse, cupping the bottom of her breast. His thumb brushed across the sleeping nub under his finger, exciting him when it awakened.

"Malfoy, not here." Hermione didn't force him to remove his hand; therefore he left it exactly where it was.

"Ruin all my fun, will you?"

"I think I'd like to have children." As if he were stung, Draco yanked his hand from under her blouse, shuddering.

"Right now? Seems a bit vulgar." Hermione slapped his chest again.

"Wanker. No, I mean someday. I think it could be wonderful, especially with someone I love, who loves me." Draco felt a familiar yet disconcerting pull in his stomach. He wasn't ready. He didn't know if he would ever be ready or ever feel worthy of her.

Hermione knew he was uncomfortable with the current topic, but she desperately wanted him to know. She wanted him to know how she felt, her hopes, her dreams. Draco felt as if she was were slipping away through his fingertips. He wasn't sure he could ever give her what she wanted.

"What if it happened? What would happen to us? We're not exactly careful." Hermione still avoided the heat of his silvery eyes, her heart surging with an unknown love as she spied upon her best friends and their son. Draco found himself contemplating her words.

They weren't as terrifying as he originally thought they would be. If he allowed himself, he could see it. Draco Malfoy could imagine having children with Hermione Granger, perhaps even a little girl with her eyes, laughing in the sunlight and for the first time in his life, he felt happy and free.

"Are you saying…" Draco discovered he could get used to that idea, right quickly if need be.

"No, no, Malfoy, hypothetical."

"Oh, I suppose I'd definitely have to marry you. Otherwise I'd find myself on the wrong end of a Bat-Bogey-Hex directly to my man bits, never mind the curses of Potter and Mrs. Weasley. So yes, I'd definitely have to marry you." Hermione's languid brown eyes studied Draco's profile.

"But…do you love me?" Her words sounded go incredibly small and frail. Draco ran his thumb the full length of her face, resting it finally on her chin.

"Aw Granger, you…you know how I feel." He faltered. Still, unable to say the words his heart was screaming for him to reveal.

The pain was blinding. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He couldn't move. Draco Malfoy felt the full effect of the curse he'd been dealt under duress. His skull was being torn in two, from the inside out. The maniacal laughter, the nonsensical words, the pounding, beating behind his eyes, dropped him to the ground. The searing pain, pulling, pushing, tearing, ripping from the back of his neck to the very bottoms of his feet. He curled into a ball, willing it, begging it, to stop. His lungs were devoid of air, he could feel the crack of the magical whip upon his skin. A cold sweat broke out across his brow as his knees drew up to his chest.

So very far away from the place in which he was trapped, Draco could hear her voice. Calling him. Sobbing his name, her cold hands pressed against his face. As suddenly as it started, it stopped and Draco opened his eyes to find a curtain of golden brown curls encircling his face.

Hermione's face was contorted, as if she herself was being tortured and perhaps, Draco thought, she was.

"Malfoy! Are you alright?! You scared me!" She brushed the tears off her cheeks as if they were an irritant.

"I'm alright, love." He heard how raspy his words sounded to his own ears. His head still pounded, yet he attempted to sit up, more to ease her angst than because he wanted too. He leaned shakily against Hermione, knowing his weight would be crushing to her, yet in his current state, there was no other option. Draco's skin was still on fire, he needed to remove his jacket immediately. He managed to remove one arm, but Hermione took over, pulling it off him gently.

"Your back! Your scar!" He sucked his breath between his teeth in a hiss.

"What of it, Granger?" Draco paused, "You can…see it?" He clenched his teeth distorting the words. He could feel her fingertips tracing the thin lines down his back, through his crisp white shirt.

"See them?" She practically shouted, "How did you get them? Who did this to you? Was it Ron? Why didn't you tell me, or at least have them healed?" He didn't understand, couldn't comprehend the continuous rambling words. No one had ever been able to see his scars before. He had never even discussed them with Hermione. He thought they were a figment of his imagination, yet, if she could see them, they were real; which made everything concerning them a reality as well.

The place where his heart lived thumped loudly in trepidation before he lost consciousness.

* * *

"It's been weeks, Harry. He can't stay like this indefinitely. We've got to do something!" Hermione's brown eyes were wild, her hair matched suit. She was gaunt and sallow in her worn gray cardigan pacing the wooden floors of the Burrow. "Shacklebolt convened that ridiculously stupid task force and for what? We've accomplished nothing! Nothing at all!" Harry had ever seen Hermione in such a state, not even when Ron was splinched.

"Hermione, you've got to…" Harry was grasping at straws but straws were all he had.

"What? Calm down? Be patient? It'll all work out?" She snagged a book from the nearby table, flinging it across the room.

Harry quite honestly, didn't have an answer. He didn't know the point of Shacklebolt's Dark Magic Society anymore than Hermione or even Bill did. They hadn't been called to arms or anything of the sort since their night at Malfoy Manor. The Minister for Magic had been suspiciously silent since being made aware of Draco Malfoy's condition. All the books at their disposal were completely useless. Harry was of the opinion they were dealing with Dark Magic, but he really didn't wish to broach the subject to Hermione, in fear of her mental health.

"Harry." Bill avoided Hermione at all costs these days. She was obsessed with the notion Bill knew more about Draco's condition than he was letting on. Harry slipped out of the living space, following Bill into the gnome infested garden.

"Have you found something?" Harry removed his glasses, cleaning them on his dingy red shirt.

"Not me actually, Ron." Bill scraped his stubble on his knuckles, waiting for Harry to veto the very thought of involving Ron.

"Ron? Really? Does Hermione know about this? Has he…" Harry trailed off, spying Ron behind an overly large leafy bush.

"Stopped being an ignorant git? Not likely, but he's got an interesting take on this."

"Bill, you're my brother!" Ron's agitation floated across the space.

"Stop reminding me." Bill snorted with only the slightest trace of derision.

"Right then, I suppose I deserve that. Hello Harry, it's been a bit yeah? So uh, George sort of, well we had a bit of a row. Not too surprising I guess, but he said I've been a bit of a wanker, so I thought about it, see? And well, you and Hermione have been my best mates since first year and I'd be a right bastard if I didn't help her." Harry sighed, preparing for the long haul. Ron did like to talk, even if it did take him a bit to get to the point.

"So, I uhm, well I actually hit the books if you can believe that. Hattie brought over some huge books from Malfoy's place and I found a bit in one of them. It's just a bit, mind you, but it's old magic and it's a bit dark, but I can't find any more on it. I was uh thinking, since it's Malfoy's book and whatnot, maybe his mother would…be willing to, I don't know, that's as far as I got really." Ron offered a lame shrug.

"That's actually quite brilliant, Ron, really brilliant. Luna suggested we turn to the Malfoy Book of Spells but we've avoided it since Malfoy…" Harry was mildly impressed with his oldest friends turn about.

"Now it's a question of seeing Narcissa Malfoy. An owl just isn't going to do it." Bill interrupted Harry with a groan, knowing the task would fall to him.

"Ya know what Bill? I'll do it. Narcissa, well, she lied to Voldemort for me." Ignoring the skeptical glances, Harry continued, "Alright then, it wasn't for me, but she did it for Malfoy. Maybe she'll help him again. She's a mother right? Ginny is always telling me never to discount a mother's love." Bill silently protested, clenching his fists, shaking his unruly red head.

"I could do it Harry, but uhm, well they hate me since I'm a Weasley, like it's a contagious disease or something and the whole Astoria thing." Harry appreciated Ron's less than heartfelt offer. It was a step in the right direction.

"Actually, why not chat up Hattie a bit? She's a bit shaken, obviously and well, Hermione's taken to…"

"Being a bit of a raving lunatic…" Bill supplied easily. Harry cleaned his spectacles, creating greater smudges.

"Yes, well, I tried to ask Hermione about the pendant she wears but she sort of uhm, well…"

"Stupefied you through a wall."

"Thanks, Bill, ever so helpful."

"I try." Bill's dry humour was currently his greatest coping mechanism. Ron nodded, ignoring the banter, feeling out of place.

"I can't get Hattie. How…"

"I'll take care of it." Bill interjected, anything was better than an impromptu visit to the Malfoys.

* * *

"Mr. Potter, to what do we owe this…displeasure." Lucius Malfoy dripped with contempt. He gripped his wand tightly amongst the folds of his black robes. Silently, he seethed at the gall of The-Boy-Who-Dared-To-Live on his doorstep, smiling of all things.

"Lucius. Actually, I'm here to speak with Narcissa. It's a bit important." Harry's smile widened and he tapped his foot impatiently, for effect.

"How dare you!" The words hissed forth with such venom, anyone else would have cowered in fear, but not Harry Potter.

"Think you could hurry up a bit? Draco hasn't all day." Harry's eyes shifted, trying to catch a glimpse of Narcissa. Lucius' wand jabbed Harry's throat, just under his chin and still, Harry Potter smiled.

"Lucius! Enough!" Narcissa Malfoy's swirling robes of grey and shimmering silver thrust through the double doors of her Manor home, the staccato of her black boots reverberating on the stone as she shoved her husband's arm to his side.

"Allo Narcissa, was wondering if we could have a bit of a chat? Perhaps we'd better leave Lucius behind, he seems quite perturbed." Harry offered Narcissa his arm, stunning her into silence. As if he were diseased, she placed her long fingernails on the very edge of the fabric of his robes, following him down the stairs. Lucius retreated into his Manor, slamming the door, causing a few windows to shatter. Neither of them flinched.

"Harry Potter." It was a statement rather than a question. Harry was intrigued to discover no malice there, simply curiosity.

"Sorry, wouldn't be here if it could be avoided. There's a bit of an issue, problem really and we thought you could prove to be instrumental in helping us along with it." Harry stopped walking in a thicket of trees, carefully hidden from the watchful eyes of Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa immediately withdrew her hand, almost as if she were scorched.

"Me, help you? Whatever gives you that idea?" Her blue eyes sparkled with intensity and also sadness.

"Not me, Draco." Harry cringed upon feeling his shoulders in a vise grip, long blonde hair smacking his cheeks.

"Draco? What's happened? Is he alright?" Her desperation was apparent.

"It seems he's been cursed. At least, that's what we've come up with. He's been in a sort of unconscious state, a coma I suppose you'd call it, for uhm, well a few weeks now and we've exhausted our…"

"Weeks?!" Her voice echoed in the misty wood.

"Well, yeah. We thought he'd snap out of it honestly, but it seems to have progressed. He had lucid moments of rambling, but that's stopped. We're guessing it's some sort of Dark Magic and we haven't the necessary tools to help him, but you do." Narcissa released Harry and he fought the urge to massage his shoulders.

"Me? What are you suggesting? I'm secretly involved in the Dark Arts? Still?" She licked her lips nervously, almost expecting someone to come leaping out from behind a dark, twisted tree.

"Actually, we thought there might be some books which would aid us." Harry really wished to grab Narcissa and shake her, but he kept those feelings in check.

"Unconscious you say? Rambling? Wait, does he…does he…have a scar?" She clutched her heart, eyes shut as though she were sleeping, besides the panting breaths.

"Yes, actually. It's wicked. We can't heal it." It wasn't often Harry Potter was impressed, yet this was one of those moments.

"Bellatrix." It was spoken so softly, Harry almost missed it. "And that woman. The mud-muggle-born, is she there as well? Is she alright?" Harry almost keeled over in shock. Was Narcissa Malfoy actually questioning him about the health of Hermione Granger?

"Hermione. Yeah, uhm, she's there. Bit of a mess really. Quite a wreck, but she's alright physically." Narcissa inclined her head slowly.

"That won't last long, if you're correct in your calculations. She hasn't got much time. Take me to them." Harry's mouth hung open. "Wait, I need the book first." She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"There is a book then?" Relief saturated Harry.

"Of course there's a book, you stupid boy." Narcissa snapped, yet Harry believed if it were in his loved one he would have snapped as well. "I can't leave now. I have to get the book. It's been in our family for generations. He'll notice it's missing if I'm not careful. I need time."

"I don't know how much time Draco has. I can uh, ask The Minister for Magic to call Lucius away, wait, he's still on house arrest. I could ask for a distraction at least, that could buy you some time." Harry supposed Ginny was right after all. There were no lengths a mother wouldn't go for the sake of her children.

"Do it, right now. Come for me at midnight." A flourish of silk and Harry was alone.


	20. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: I'm a loser baby...so why don't you...realise I'm not JK Rowling mmk?**

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**AN: *bounces* do you realise...there's only...5 more chapters and an epilogue? *gasp* I'm sad...sort of...almost...but not. this chapter was oodles of fun but the next one? is even BETTER! muahahahaha *kisses***

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Chapter 19

_ Draco Malfoy wandered empty halls, empty rooms, and empty gardens searching for something, anything._ _Intermittently he'd hear the sound of weeping and even wailing, yet he couldn't find the source. Wispy tendrils of mist or fog swirled around him. It was quiet there. He didn't feel pain, which was a nice change of pace from constant torment. He realised, he didn't feel anything at all. Something was missing. It was her. Draco began running aimlessly. There had to be a way out, he simply had to find it._

_ "WHERE IS SHE?!" His words bounced back to him, reverberating in the emptiness. If he cocked his head and concentrated, he swore he could hear her voice._

* * *

"I'm here. I'm here. Come back to me. Please, Malfoy, please." Hermione sobbed into Draco's sunken chest, desperately clutching his light blue shirt as if it were a lifeline.

"H-Hermione." Ron Weasley peeked into the small bedroom cautiously. He didn't want to be on the other end of Hermione's Stunning Spell.

"Get out Ron." Her weariness was evident. She didn't raise her head from Draco's chest, she continued to stroke his cheek, her tears soaking his shirt through.

"I thought, maybe you'd uhm, like to know…"

"GET OUT YOU BLOODY WANKER!" Hermione's tangled mop of curls shook with her ire. She drew her wand, her knuckles white. Ron splayed his palms in surrender.

"Hermione, I just want to help." Ron chose his words carefully, his bright blue eyes never leaving the brandished wand.

"HELP? HELP! You're a right git Weasley. Malfoy was right. You didn't come here to help him. You came to ease your own bloody conscience. If you were ever my friend, you wouldn't have left in the first place. Bastard." Ron watched a tear fall from the corner of her eye, blazing a trail down her cheek.

"I've always been here! You're the one who ran off with Malfoy. With all the wizards in the world at your disposal you call in love with the bloody ferret?!" Ron almost regretted the loss of his temper, almost. Hermione shot off a jinx, barely missing him.

"I never want to see you again." Hermione was barely clinging to the last vestiges of her sanity.

"You're in my bloody house! Some nerve you've got! Picking a git like Malfoy over me." Ron ducked behind the door as another jinx grazed his ear.

"You made your choices. I've made mine. GET OUT!" Hermione sunk back into the rickety wooden chair next to Draco's bedside. She delicately raised his hand to her face, pressing it against her cheek.

"Never thought I'd see the day where Hermione Granger cried for the likes of Draco Malfoy. Thought you were smarter than to love a git like that." Ron snarled in contempt, the bile rising in his throat. He skulked out of the room as a jinx blew a hole in the door.

"I can't. I don't. How dare you." Her lips curled into an uncharacteristic snarl.

"You never looked at me the way you look at him."

"I. Don't. Love. Him." Hermione protested on deaf ears. Sadly, Ron shook his head, his shoulders sagging. He had reached the landing at the top of the stairs when the screams began.

* * *

"Harry! Hurry!" Ginny shouted in desperation through the second story window of The Burrow. Harry Potter ran through the gnome infested garden, kicking a few in his hurry and burst through the kitchen door to see Molly Weasley crying. Arthur Weasley's balding head shone in the bright lights as he rocked his wife slowly.

"What's happened?" Harry gasped, leaning against the wooden table, with a stitch in his side. Molly sobbed louder and Arthur shook his head sadly.

"It's Hermione, Harry. She's uhm, hit a bit of a rough spot and it seems she's joined young Mr. Malfoy in his semi-conscious state. Molly is beside herself, obviously. We had George take Ron to the shop as he just makes everything a touch worse. Hermione and Ron got into a bit of a row." Arthur's soft voice took a few moments to permeate Harry's shock.

"A row? What does that have anything to…" Harry's knees buckled, forcing him to sit in a rickety wooden chair. Bill, looking harried, clapped Harry on the shoulder.

"Harry, glad you're back. It's been a bit rough." He pushed his hair from his forehead, staring at his mother's back. "Hermione's been, well you know how she's been. Ron was all proud of himself, set on sharing his news with Hermione. She just, well, she wasn't receptive to his help…" Bill tiredly explained to a befuddled Harry.

"That's putting it lightly, son." Arthur continued to pat his wife's back as Molly's sobs died down to hiccups and sniffles.

"You know how Ron gets, Harry. There was a bit of screaming on both sides and well, I don't know what happened exactly; Ginny was there, she can fill you in." Bill's head slumped onto the crook of his elbow, his mouth falling open, fast asleep.

"Harry! Oh it's awful!" Ginny sobbed, running from the landing of the stairs straight into her husband's arms.

"Gathered that, I have a bit of news, but I really need to send Shacklebolt an owl. It's quite important." Harry's hand stroked Ginny's cheek.

"Oh, it's been taken care of Harry. We owled him straight away. He should arrive momentarily." Arthur spoke over his shoulder, leading his wife toward the arm chairs by the fireplace.

"Harry, I wish you'd been here. I don't understand." Ginny blew her nose noisily in a handkerchief she'd pulled from her sleeve. "Ron and Hermione were being awful to each other. Hermione screamed at him, said she never wanted to see him again and that she didn't love Malfoy. She couldn't love him. Of course she was lying, but I think she thought it was truth and everything sort of exploded. It was like she was being whipped, Harry. Her blouse shredded and her back, it was fresh and bleeding and she was screaming, Harry. It was like she was being tortured and then she just…sort of…collapse and we haven't been able to rouse her." Ginny buried her face in the crook of Harry's shoulder. He was hard pressed not to choke on her dark red hair.

"They're connected. I don't understand how or even why, but it's obvious they're connected. Maybe Narcissa can shed some light on it." He was mumbling to himself but there was a collective gasp

"Oh right, sorry. I went to see Narcissa Malfoy and she's got a book of some sort. It's probably that blasted Malfoy Family Book of Spells we never managed to find. I'm supposed to collect her at midnight if everything works out."

"That woman? In my house? Harry Potter!" Molly Weasley's anger rang out, waking Bill.

"I'm sorry, Molly. I should have asked. It's just, we're a bit desperate and I thought…"

"Quite right Harry, quite right. Anything could help. I'm sorry Molly, but the boy is right. She was pleasant to Bill during that dinner and well, we're at a loss. We can't leave Hermione and even Draco Malfoy in their current state simply because we've had a bit of an issue with them over the years. That wouldn't make us any better than they are." Arthur Weasley, ever the source of reason calmed his wife and daughter's ruffled feathers.

"I'll set out some biscuits. Arthur dear, I thought you said the Minister was to come by? Where is that man? Harry dear, you'd best hurry along." Molly stood wearily, swaying on her feet a moment before heading back into the kitchen.

"I overheard a conversation in the loo and it seems Shacklebolt is being bloody praised by the Wizengamot for his bloody Dark Arts Society or whatever he's calling it these days. Personally, I think it's a bit of bullpocky. Kingsley Shacklebolt is using your names for his own agenda. Not sure I trust him, but as long as my loved ones are safe, I suppose I can't complain too much." Arthur sighed heavily and followed after Molly.

"They've been…saying things, Harry. Can't understand a word of it, but something's going on between them." Ginny wrapped a plaid blanket around her shoulders, kissed her husband's brow and ventured back up the stairs. No one bothered to wake Bill, even as the drool pooled beneath his head.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy swallowed the lump in her throat as Harry Potter led her toward the Burrow. She couldn't suppress the shiver of revulsion while perusing the unique shape. She expected to be greeted with malice and hatred, instead the air was reserved. Molly and Arthur Weasley visibly relaxed upon hearing Lucius was not in attendance. Narcissa understood, she often felt the same way where her husband was concerned.

"Tea?" Molly gestured toward the long table ladened down with biscuits, crumpets, scones and tea pots. Narcissa didn't trust her voice. She shook her head, heading straight to Arthur Weasley. She pressed an old worn leather bound book into his hands bearing the Malfoy Family Crest.

"I didn't know." She whispered, refusing to look any of them in the eye. "I suspected, but I didn't know…until now. And it might be too late…for them both." Her pale fingers covered her mouth, stifling an unexpected sob.

"You did this?" Molly Weasley struggled to find her wand within the confines of her patchwork skirt. Harry snatched his mother-in-law about the waist, carrying her as far from Narcissa Malfoy as the room would allow.

"I…you don't understand." Arthur handed Narcissa a tattered handkerchief and she grasped it without recoiling in distaste.

"Tell us then?" Harry poured himself a cup of tea, snatching a few biscuits from a plate. She dabbed her eyes delicately, almost as if she didn't wish to mar her makeup.

"Bellatrix." She started, meeting every single pair of eyes with determination. Molly hissed. Arthur placed a reassuring hand over his wife's. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and Bill, slept on.

"My sister was always a special sort. I'm sure you have no interest in her, which I understand, believe me I understand, but there is a point to this. I promise. She was always drawn to darkness. Not only the darkness in magic, but in life itself. She used to reanimate the frogs she murdered by our pond when we were small. Just to see what would happen, she'd say." Narcissa's long pale fingers shook slightly and Molly Weasley being ever the mother hen pressed a delicate china cup filled with hot tea into the shaking hands.

"We were close. Not as close as Andromeda and I had been, but close enough. It had to be enough. We were reprimanded cruelly for mentioning her very existence, which drew Bellatrix and I even closer. She…lost her way. I don't know when it happened or even how it happened, but it did. She loved Vol-Vol…The Dark Lord more than she loved her husband. I thought The Dark Lord was the only _**person**_," Narcissa spat the word with such venom, Harry was shocked once again, "she could ever love. They were one and the same, regardless of the way he dismissed her. Until…she saw Draco. He was but a child when she was broken out of Azkaban. He was..he was only…" She faltered, tears glistening in her sky blue eyes.

"Sixteen." Harry supplied. Ginny silently entered, standing behind Harry's chair.

"Yes, she became obsessed with him. She doted on him like no other. Sometimes, late at night, I would find them deep in conversations which would stop the moment they'd spy me. She taught him non-verbal magic. He's so proficient, it scares me. Between his father and my sister, my son was dragged into a war he didn't even believe in. He didn't want to fight. He didn't want the Dark Mark, but he couldn't disappoint them. Disappointing them was akin to death. I should have…taken him away. I should have hidden him, but I couldn't. Lucius never let me out of his sight. When he wasn't constantly hovering or spewing his propaganda, there were Death Eaters keeping careful watch of every single move I made. You have to understand. I didn't want this. I didn't want any of this. Yes, I believe in blood-purity but now I wonder how much of that is what my father spouted and how much of that is me." Narcissa clutched the tea cup between her trembling hands, bringing it to her lips slow, sipping.

"Oh, that's lovely." She nodded her head toward Molly appreciatively.

"Alright, so Bellatrix was demented. We know this. Lucius is a ponce. We know this as well. Malfoy was sort of a prisoner by blood, that's new I suppose. Yet, what does this have to do with this curse and Hermione?" Harry rubbed his eyes, lines creasing in his forehead, trying to lead the conversation back to more pressing issues rather than Narcissa Malfoy's guilt.

"Harry, give the poor woman a moment." Arthur Weasley's gentle voice calmed Harry's frayed nerves.

"It's alright, Arthur. May I call you Arthur? I don't believe I've ever called you anything…" Harry thought Arthur and Molly Weasley were going to faint from shock.

"It's uhm, it's uhm quite alright then. Please, carry on." Arthur mopped his now red face with the sleeve of his shabby brown robes.

"Bellatrix. Yes, the curse. It's not a curse, not really. It's well, a vow? I suppose. Bellatrix admired The Dark Lord, loved even, as close as she could come to love, but…" She held up a finger as the Weasleys were set to interrupt, "she loved Draco more. That scared her. She'd never been a mother. She'd never felt the love a mother has for their child." Narcissa's eyes met Molly's briefly. "The closest thing to a child she had, was mine. And, as much as she was willing to die for a cause she believed in, as much as she was willing to die for The Dark Lord, she discerned, she did not wish my son to die. She wanted him as far from the madness as possible. She didn't want him to wind up on the same path she chose. It was strange to see her, so adamant about something not involving death and mayhem. She taught him Occlumency. I suppose for the purpose of hiding their agenda from The Dark Lord. She would whisper something to him every night. I didn't understand their relationship. She tortured him in the presence of Death Eaters, in front of The Dark Lord himself, but in private she was different.

"I went to her. She refused me of course, but I asked her to help me. I wanted to leave and take Draco with me. Go into hiding until the war was over and I could see past the insanity. I knew she was planning something. She came to me you see. I wanted to refuse her as she refused me. She begged, she pleaded. 'Cissy please. We have to ensure his future. He has to understand. This is no way to live a life. He needs more, he deserves more.' She said, and I agreed. Please, don't judge me too harshly. I'd do anything for my son, anything at all. Bellatrix didn't think it through; not half as much as she should have. She was being rash and I went along with it. I thought, at the time, it was the only way. It never crossed my mind The Dark Lord would fail. I thought that would always be our lives, huddled in fear, surrounded by hate. Draco…he was scared, terrified really. He didn't know what his aunt wanted for him. I don't think he ever knew she truly loved him." Narcissa knew her thoughts were scattered and her words were just pouring out of her mouth, but she couldn't stop them. She needed them to understand.

"It was before the Battle of Hogwarts. It was the day those Death Eaters and Fenrir Greyback brought you, Harry and the Weasley boy and…the girl to Malfoy Manor. Draco lied for them, as best he could under the circumstance. Bellatrix barely took her eyes off Draco. She saw his aversion to the girl. She thought he was soft, but it endeared him to her. She tried torturing…the…the girl, but it made Draco withdraw from her and she couldn't bear to have that. After their…" Narcissa caught Harry shaking his head, "your escape, The Dark Lord was furious. Bellatrix woke me and we went down to the dungeons. Draco was already there and she asked me to perform a spell. I wasn't familiar with all the steps, not really. It was similar to the Unbreakable Vow, but there was more to it than that. The incantation was similar, but it was the end. The end changed everything. I researched it a bit afterwards, but it can't be reversed. If they don't…if they can't find their way out, they're going to die. My son and the girl…will die." Narcissa clattered her tea cup into the saucer, lowering her eyes to the table, fixating on a long gauge instead of meeting the eyes of the witches and wizards around her.

"Different how?" Bill had woken and was the first wizard to speak. Narcissa stared at the scars on his face, her mouth dropping open slightly.

"Greyback?" Her voice was soft, raw and filled with pain. Bill curtly nodded his assent. "I'm sorry." Of all the things they expected of Narcissa Malfoy, an apology of any sort was not one of them.

"Yes, well, life happens I suppose." Bill eyes the pale blonde warily.

"Yes, I suppose it does." With a slight shake of her head, Narcissa continued. "How is it different you asked? The binding is the same, but it's more of a golden whip of sorts than a simple arm clasp." Bill nodded, he was already aware of that bit of information.

"But the rest? What did she do?" Harry couldn't help himself. He was desperate to know how to fix his friend and her…whatever he was.

"Yes, well, I don't remember all of it. It's been years. Even so, I didn't hear everything anyway. Some of the words she whispered directly into his ear. The most I can tell you is, Bellatrix made him promise. She made him swear to never forget. Afterwards she told me she'd fixed everything. He wasn't going to follow her path or his father's path. She swore she had ensured his future. She held my hand…for the last time and told me my son would grow into a beautiful person, would marry, have children and be happy. What mother doesn't want that for her children? Tell me that, please.

"Later, I scoured the book she used. She had left it on the floor of the dungeon and Lucius was going mad trying to find it. There are some words at the bottom of the spell. I can't read them. I've never been proficient in languages, unless of course they were spells. I believed he'd be alright, really I did. I never thought…" Narcissa's words were cut off by an earth shattering, primal scream.

"Draco." Narcissa stood, her arm outstretched toward the sound of her child's agony.

"Bill, read the spell. Arthur, come with me? Ginny, stay with your mum. Narcissa…" Harry trailed off as Narcissa slowly moved toward the stairs. "Alright then, she's with us." Harry rushed passed her, throwing open the small bedroom door to find Draco and Hermione levitating slightly over their respective beds. He stopped short, causing Arthur and Narcissa to crash into him, forcing him to the end of Draco Malfoy's bed.

Harry crept forward, intending to poke Draco's foot, but he felt a slight electro shock burning his hand.

"Ouch!" Arthur found himself on the receiving end of the same jolt when he reached for Hermione.

"Harry! Harry!" Bill burse through the door, "It's Latin!"

"Latin? Really? What's it mean then?" Arthur edged toward his son, keeping a wary eye on the floating duo.

"It says, _Amor Vincit Omnia_." Bill glanced around expectantly, but was greeted with blank stares.

"Son, we uhm, don't speak Latin." Arthur nudged his son's elbow gently.

"Oh yes, of course, well it means love conquers all things."

"Seriously? The fine print in a Dark Magic…" Narcissa glowered, her eyebrows arching, "er uhm Gray Magic spell is love conquers all things?" Harry wanted to bang his head against a wall, though he knew it wouldn't help.

Draco Malfoy's back arched painfully, his limbs were rigid, and his skin unusually pale as Hermione mirrored his actions. His lips started to move, but Hermione's screams were drowning out any sound coming from them.

"Silencio!" Arthur cast the spell easily. Hermione still contorted in pain, but she was silent.

"Remember. Always remember. Remember, the most powerful magic ever to exist." Draco Malfoy's words were strangled, hoarse even as he repeated them over and over again. Wordlessly, they backed out of the room.

* * *

"The most powerful magic to ever exist." Bill sort of chanted it over and over as if that would help make sense of it.

"It's simple. I don't know how it's going to help with that lot, but it's so incredibly simple. I feel sort of stupid now." Harry laughed while shoving a scone into his mouth. Ginny smacked Harry on the back of the head causing him to choke on his scone, spitting remnants onto the floor.

"What was that for?" His eyes were watering though whether from the pain of the smack or the choking, even he couldn't be certain.

"Uhm Harry? Care to explain? We're not all residents in your head, son." Arthur timidly explained to the confused wizard.

"Really? Well, the most powerful magic ever to exist is love."

"Love? How does that even make sense? Give me an Unforgivable versus Love and I bet…oh!" Ginny gasped instantly, her hand clasped firmly over her mouth.

"Exactly. My mum died for me. Not even an Unforgivable could do me in. Twice actually, but that's not the point. How does it fix them?" Harry winced as he rubbed the back of his head. Ginny murmured apologies in his hear, her freckled arms drawing him close.

"Does he love her?" Narcissa Malfoy questioned quietly. She stood slightly apart from the crowd of Weasleys and Potters, afraid almost, to join them. "Does she love him? Those are the questions we have to ask and answer first."

"She does." Ginny was the first to respond.

"Are you sure?!" Molly, Arthur and Narcissa asked in unison.

"Yes. I asked her, the day Fleur and Victoire were here. It was the day Draco fell unconscious under the trees." Ginny paused; they were all waiting on her words with bated breath. "Alright then, I asked her if she loved him. She said…she said…" Ginny's voice broke, "she said desperately. He was right behind her, but she didn't know it. I knew he was there. I asked her if she was going to tell him. She said she wouldn't. She was afraid he didn't love her and it would ruin everything." Narcissa crossed the old wooden floor slowly as if she were afraid to spook the Weasleys and Potters. She stood beside Ginny tentatively, almost waiting for Ginny to hex her. Ginny cried silently, the tears free flowing across her freckles, dropping off her chin. Narcissa touched Ginny's shoulder lightly before enclosing her in a hug.

"Bill? You know Mr. Malfoy the best of us, wouldn't you say son?" Arthur prodded carefully, not wishing to anger his eldest son.

"Yeah dad, but," Bill angrily threw a cup into the sink feeling satisfied when it shattered.

"Son, I know it's a sensitive sort of topic. I know you're a private person, I respect that. This is more important than keeping secrets. This is the difference between life and death." Arthur Weasley watched his son clench his hands on the counter, his head down, his shoulders hunched and knew it was difficult for him.

"He loves her." Bill refused to say more than that.

"Bill, I love my son as much as your parents love you, but I believe it's safe to say, you're not telling us everything. It's imperative we have all the facts so we can sort it all out. Please Bill, don't make me beg." Narcissa had released Ginny, who was still in a state of shock, and was gliding around Molly, to whisper in Bill's ear.

"Fine." Bill spun around, his eyes red with exhaustion and grief. "He's always loved her. He just didn't know it."

"Really? How long mate?" Harry couldn't keep his curiosity to himself. Here he was learning his oldest enemy, besides Voldemort of course, had been in love with one of his best friends for years. It would boggle anyone's mind.

"Fourth year." Bill hung his head, ashamed in a way. He had broken a promise to never reveal his best mate's darkest secrets.

"Holy sh..OW! I didn't say it, did I?!" Harry was rubbing the back of his head again, his wife glowering at him in anger.

"That settles that then. What do we do now?" Arthur glanced among the drawn faces nervously. Narcissa Malfoy, with tears in her eyes, stood before the unlikely group and spoke.

"We join them."


	21. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: Draco Malfoy's locked in my basement. Ok, he's not, but he would be...if I was JK Rowling. Just sayin'**

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Chapter 20

_ Hermione Granger stumbled in the darkness surrounding her. She couldn't find her wand. She was never proficient in non-verbal magic and even in the confines of her mind; she cursed herself for not applying herself more in her studies. The gruff voice of Alastair Moody chanting 'constant vigilance' was constantly reverberating in the confines of her mind._

_ The anticipation of objects caused her to trip more than actual objects, being as there weren't any. A rippling wind coursed through her, chilling her to the bone. She assumed she was alone as the silence was deafening. She drew what she assumed was a cardigan closer against her body. She could not discern walls from ceilings as her hands continuously came up empty. A small part of her wished to curl into the fetal position, cover her ears and scream until someone found her. She resolved to continue her journey. Hermione Granger did not give in to feelings of defeat._

* * *

Harry had owled George and Ron straightaway. He didn't think they'd appreciate being left out of the loop regardless of how Ron had left things with Hermione. He met them in front of The Burrow and filled them in quickly. Ron was almost polite to Narcissa Malfoy, to everyone's chagrin. George avoided the scurrying adults, a deep furrow across his brow.

"Where the bloody hell is Shacklebolt?" George whisked James from Ginny's arms, bestowing a smile upon the toddler.

"We owled him. Haven't heard a lick." Molly Weasley wrapped her arms around herself to quell her nerves.

"How is this going to work? Can you touch them? I thought you got a jolt, Harry?" Ron warily watched his family.

"I did, but, it's not going to be me." Harry held his breath for a moment.

"This is something that requires…a mother's touch." Narcissa raised a perfectly arched eyebrow in Ron's direction. She knew there was no love lost between Ron Weasley and her son.

"Are you sure it'll work?" George interjected, while bouncing James on his knee, more worried about Ron than Draco Malfoy. Bill stepped forward nervously.

"I've done a bit of research in the..."

"Library." All the Weasleys answered in unison.

"Yes, thank you and while there's not a lot written about a Dark Arts Unbreakable, there are a few texts which talk about the Charm surrounding them. It's a sort of protection. From each other, from themselves and from what I've read in an obscure text, the only people able to break through them for short periods have been the person's mother." Bill waited for their reactions.

"You can't have Hermione's mum come. She'll bloody have a fit!" Ron's outrage was unsurprising to anyone, except Narcissa Malfoy.

"As if you have a say, boy. Don't look at me like that. I know all about you. You don't get to decide anything. You're an immature, spoiled prat. You and Astoria Greengrass deserve each other. You're both an insult to the wizarding community. These people raised you? Really? I'm surprised honestly. Don't speak." Ron's mouth closed with an audible snap.

Narcissa took a moment to collect herself. Harry found himself quite amused while Ron was a bit slack-jawed. "These exceedingly kind, incredibly loving, despite their surroundings, people raised you? I'm sure they didn't teach you to be self serving and selfish and even hateful. You're not my child and I find myself ashamed of you. No. That's not right. Ashamed for you." Narcissa shoved Ron out of her way, walking straight into the garden.

"You're gonna let her talk to me like that?" Ron screamed at his silent family.

"Well, Ron, she's not wrong." George refused to look at his brother, instead inspecting a knot on the wall.

"I never thought I'd see the day..." Molly shook her head slowly in awe.

"What? When a Malfoy insults a Weasley? Happens all the time mum." Ron prattled on, oblivious to anything which didn't correlate to himeslf.

"No, Ron. The day a Malfoy would pay a Weasley a heart-felt compliment." It was easy for Harry to supply the answer, as the rest of the Weasleys had followed Narcissa outside.

* * *

In the wee small hours of the morning, Molly Weasley and Narcissa Malfoy stood side by side. They mounted the stairs together. They opened the small bedroom door together. Narcissa stationed herself at the foot of Draco's bed and Molly at Hermione's.

"Are you sure this will work?" Molly whispered cautiously.

"You're the closest thing to a wizarding mother she has. We've got to try. It's the best chance they have." With a curt nod, they stood side by side. Narcissa reached for Draco's left hand as Molly reached for Hermione's right. They were not stopped, or jolted. Tremulously, they smiled at each other, bringing the hands together.

The moment Molly placed Hermione's hand in Draco's the Charm stopped. They crashed to the bed, grunting in their unconscious state. Narcissa and Molly backed away as they heard the grunting and straining of their beds. With seconds to spare they leaned against the door as the beds crashed together, splintering along the edges. A simple wave of a wand turned the two beds into one. Narcissa felt a moment of sweet relief when her son's face relaxed and his breathing steadied. Hermione's chest heaved in a heavy sigh.

"They look...serene." Molly's hope was infectious. Narcissa took an unsteady breath.

"It's up to them now. We've done all we can do."

* * *

_Hermione Granger was the smartest witch of her age. She knew it was true. Everyone always told her. She basked in the compliments, but wasn't self righteous or prideful. Therefore she couldn't understand why she was trapped in memories. Something had happened, this much she knew as the inky darkness instantly dissipated, turning instead to soft tendrils of white light._

_ She walked through a mist, unable to see directly in front of her, but she wasn't afraid. In a way, it reminded her of third year, the year she had the Time-Turner. She could see herself in the distance and was that...Draco Malfoy with her?_

_ "What on earth am I doing with him? He hates me, doesn't he?" Yet those sentiments were not what she was experiencing. She was looking at herself, through his eyes. She saw herself, walking down the stairs into the entrance hall of Hogwarts during the Yule Ball. She saw herself shouting at Harry and Ron, running up the steps. The back of her head in Potions. Defence Against The Dark Arts her hand raised, waving excitedly._

_ She saw herself leaving Hagrid's, a few different times. She saw herself in the stands of the Quidditch pitch from the height of broom riding.__  
__She walked through the memories which were hers but also not hers, touching nothing, only observing._

_ "I don't understand. Where am I? Why am I here?" She saw herself sitting in The Great Hall during meals, from a perspective across the room.  
__  
__ "Granger? Are you here?" The voice sounded ethereal. It echoed, coming from every direction at once. Hermione recognized it though still lost and confused_.

_ "Where are you?" She called back, afraid of being alone. Harsh maniacal laughter greeted her and pain. Rather, she thought there would be pain, there should be, especially in this particular memory, but there wasn't.__  
__ She saw herself thrashing on the floor, felt the rage in the memory that wasn't hers. She felt it bubbling inside her, the empathy, compassion and the sadness. So much sadness.  
__  
__ "Who are you?" She screamed.  
__  
_ "_You know." The ethereal voice answered softly, tickling her ear._

_Suddenly Hermione saw herself walking down the street with Ron Weasley. He was ignoring her, ogling a witch passing them. Hermione realized she looked unhappy. She saw herself again, in a little shop, reading a book with a smile on her face. The memories spun, in a blur she watched herself, years and years of memories, filled with her. And finally, it was the Victory Day Gala._

_Hermione watched herself walk down a lane before climbing into a carriage. She saw herself on the veranda. She knew then. She knew whose memories she was trapped._

_ "Malfoy!" She screamed into the mist. Part of her wishing, hoping even he would simply appear in front of her. She felt so tired. She started to run, pushing through all the memories of herself.  
__  
__Hermione turned, running through a wall of mist, straight into his arms. She gasped while he spun her in circles, covering her face in kisses.__  
__" You found me. I've been looking for you. Been lost in here really." Draco Malfoy sounded incredibly calm, considering their predicament.  
__  
__ "Where are we?" Hermione managed to gasp.  
__  
__ "In my memories. I don't know how or why, but I recognise my own mind, thank you very much." Draco was relieved. He couldn't explain why, yet he felt complete knowing not only wasn't he alone, but she was here with him.  
__  
__ "How..how do we get out?" Hermione clung to him, her head swiveling to take in their surroundings.  
__  
__ "I don't know really, but I feel better with you here." He kissed her again, letting his lips wander down her neck.  
__  
__ "Why?" He stopped, his heart thudding under her fingers.  
__  
__ "What do you mean why? You know I...I.." He stumbled, unable to say the very words which would whisk them straight out of their prison.  
__  
__ "You what, Malfoy?" Hermione's eyes were almost pleading with him to tell the truth. To tell her how he truly felt, but he couldn't. He could feel the disapproval of his father. Feeling it burning inside him. A cold, haughty laugh filled his head. 'Say it you weakling', a woman's voice chanted the words until they were all he heard and he found his arms empty.  
__  
__ "I CAN'T!" he screamed at the nothingness. He felt cold, empty and alone. Where did she go? Why did she disappear? Was any of this real? He closed his eyes, wishing it away._

_Draco Malfoy saw himself. He was being carried to the infirmary by that great oaf, Hagrid. He was flying on a broom during a Quidditch match. He was on the cover of The Daily Prophet with Astoria Greengrass. He was smirking nastily. He was in a bookstore, pulling down a book for..._

_ "GRANGER!" Draco screamed. He felt as if he were being torn in two. In a way he was. He had a decision to make. Would he admit his love for the annoying, incredibly brilliant Gryffindor, turning his back on his family and their values? Or would he choose his family, upholding their ideals instead of his own, letting go of love and perhaps even his life?_

_ The memories which weren't his own flitted past him faster and faster. Every moment she had ever looked at him. Every second she had ever thought of him. Pieces of conversation floated to his ears.__  
__ "...he's just so...which makes me...and"__  
__ "...you love him.."__  
__ "...desperately..."__  
__Draco Malfoy started to run, wishing he could see where he was going, but it didn't matter, his final destination was her. It would always be her. He had to tell her. He must. Before it was too late.__  
_

"Should we check on them?" Ginny paced nervously, one of the few still unable to sleep. George slept on the floor, underneath the window, James fussing slightly on his chest. Ron drooled on the kitchen table. Bill pored over his books. Narcissa and Molly drank copious cups of tea, struggling to keep their eyes open. Arthur nodded off in an armchair by the fire. Harry scooped up his son, shushing him quietly as he rocked him back to sleep, shaking his head at the child's ability to sleep through anything.

"Ginny. Give it time." Harry placed his young son back in his crib, tousling his hair.

"They're screaming, Harry. That can't be good." Harry ran a hand through his unruly dark hair.

"Ya, but Ginny, they're screaming for each other. That's something." He flounced onto the sofa, his eyes closing. A few moments later, Ginny curled up next to him, her head resting on his chest.

"What if it's not, Harry? What if it's not?" She whispered against her husband's chest, before succumbing to the slumber she'd escaped for too long.

* * *

With a pop, Hattie Apparated into a room filled with strangers. The witches and wizards towered over her and the tiny house-elf found herself on her hands and knees, crawling toward Bill Weasley. She tugged lightly on his pants leg, furtive glances touching everyone in attendance.

"Mr. Bill." Hattie whispered, her limbs trembling in terror. Bill brushed his leg thinking a wayward spider was ascending his trousers again, when Hattie poked his finger. He grasped her to his chest quickly shoving her under his robes.

"Shhh!" Bill demanded, raking his fingers through his unruly red tangles. "I need a bit of air." He told no one in particular, marching out the back door of The Burrow. He headed straight for the thickest part of the orchard behind the house. No one was interested in following Bill. He opened his robes, setting Hattie carefully at his feet, settling against the nearest tree.

"I comes Mr Bill! I comes." Hattie's bulbous eyes shone with pride.

"Yes, yes you did well. I'd like to chat with you a bit, Hattie."

"I no wants to chat withs other Weasel-boy. He nasty." Hattie's ears waved in the slight morning breeze.

"I know. Ron can't help that he's a git. Hattie. Hermione told me you gave her a bit of history about the pendant she wears. Do you know it?" Hattie shrieked into the wind.

"Do I knows it! Course I knows it! Master Draco told me to never tells Miss Hermiones the rest. He was angries." Hattie shuddered in remembrance.

"Yes, well, Master Draco will never know you told me. It could help him a great deal." Bill prodded the teeny house-elf gently.

"Masters Draco needs my helps?!"

"That's exactly right Hattie; and I think it might come down to that pendant. I know it's an ancestral piece and the clasp vanished but other than that..."

"Ohh Masters Draco not let me tell the best parts! It don't comes off."

"Ever?!" Bill was alarmed by this new piece of information.

"That's sillies. Old Master Malfoy, don't knows his names, he puts it on his wifes and it stays there for years and years and years and more years. Then they has a boy child. Then the boy childs gets all bigs and when he's all big, the necklace falls off the necks! Then the Mistress Malfoy gived it to the boy child and he keepses it until he loves a girl. And if he not loves a girl then when he's bigger, Old Master and Mistress, they finds him a wifes from.." Hattie paused, concerning with great effort.

"No matter from where Hattie...please, continue." Hattie squinted warily at Mr Bill, wondering his intentions. "I just want to fix them, Hattie." Hattie took a deep breath, hurrying along in her monologue.

"So they finds him a wifes and they signs the papers and the boy childs HAS to gives it to her. He puts it on his almost wifes and it seals shuts."

"You're saying throughout generations, the Malfoys seal themselves to their wives with the pendant in question? When the witch bares a child.."

"BOY childs."

"Yes. She bares a son and when the son is of age, the pendant is then passed unto the child? Is that it?"

"Ohh nos Mr Bill! Sometimes the boys no want the girls."

"What...happens then...Hattie?" Bill found himself hanging on every garbled word the house-elf shared.

"I donts knows. I heard its bad. But Master Draco and Miss Hermione is diff'rents." Hattie's odd shaped head bobbled confidently.

"Different how?" Hattie stepped closer, her ears tapping Bill's forehead.

"Hattie hears things." It took all of Bill's self control to avoid shaking the house-elf. "Master Draco's aunt was scaries. Master Draco speakted to me and tolds me what shes did." Bill wanted to shout hallelujah from the rooftops but thought was a bit extreme.

"What did he tell you?" Hattie flounced into Bill's lap startling him greatly.

"Wells! Master Draco not understands all the things, but Hattie knows. Meanie Auntie bound a wicked bads spell to Master Draco and the Malfoy Family Pendant. She used-ed the Unbreakables. Not nice magics. I telled Master Draco thats not nice. He tolds me his Meanie Auntie no want him to be bads. She wants him to loves a girl and has happy lifes but nots witches like Miss Hermione. So's the big pretties necklace seals thems. Bonds thems. It's nice me thinks, but Meanie Auntie no wants that. So's if Master Draco love-es her and he lies and says no loves. The spells in the spell whips hims. Buts. If he saays he loves Miss Hermione, he dies. Cept. Meanie Auntie not knows what I knows." Bill was choking on his gasps of horror. It was much, much worse than he thought.

"Hattie, please."

"That old magic necklace not cares if he love-es her. Magic not cares. Old Magics wins. Old Magic saays to saays it and kills bad Meanie Aunties magics." Hattie crossed her arms, her head bobbling on her shoulders as she nodded.

"Wait. I'm confused." Hattie opened her mouth to speak, but Bill swore if he had to listen to her long winded story again he'd have to dig a grave. "Let me figure this out. Bellatrix Lestrange cast a spell. Obviously. The minuscule humanity remaining in her decreed her nephew to promise to ...oh yes. Well that's clever. She didn't tell him outright she wished him love. She wanted him to discover it himself and Draco being Draco was a bit thick-headed. Yet there seems to be a clause in her wish or rather, magical demand, that the woman he chooses to love be as pure as he is, otherwise he'd die. Correct?" Hattie clapped her petite hands in misplaced glee.

"Alright then. Yet, there's the magic of the pendant. The pendant bears the Malfoy Family Crest. It was forged with magic, old magic, and old magic doesn't care about bloodlines. In order to save Draco's life...it cast him into a sort of trance. Why would Hermione join him there? Why was she tortured as well? That's the part I'm a bit shoddy on.." Bill mumbled still attempting to complete the puzzle. Hattie's child like hand smacked his forehead.

"Mr Bill. You smarts, but dumbs. Theys bonded and sealed-ed nows. He goes. She goes."

"Oh yes of course. They were both tortured by Bellatrix as well. Which I suppose on some level explains their imaginary scars."

"Not imaginaries! Meanie Auntie hads specials spells. If you nose feels the spells, you nose sees the results." Bill would have taken it as a personal affront to be corrected by a house-elf but these were extraordinary circumstances.

"Makes sense. Hermione denied it as well, which cast her into his realm. How do they get out?" Hattie shook her head, jumping off Bill's lap.

"Loves." Hattie stuck out her tongue and Disapparated.

* * *

_ "MALFOY!" Hermione felt herself going hoarse from screaming his name. 'Please,' she cried to herself, 'let me find him.' She stumbled, tripping over her own feet. She fell to her knees, her chest convulsing in panic and fear.  
__  
__ "I'm here. Thank Merlin I found you." Draco scooped her up, carrying her through the mist as if she were a child. He stopped, surprised to find a door barring his path  
.__  
__ "Do you think it's the way out Malfoy?" Hermione sniffled into his blue shirt.  
__  
__ "Let's open it and find out, love." He smiled at her, inhaling her scent, rubbing his cheek on her hair. Draco pushed open the door, placing Hermione on her feet, unable to formulate words._

_In the center of the room was a four poster bed. White linens were draped across it and the door behind them disappearing._

_ "What is going on?" Hermione's mind was scrambling for something that made sense, yet she was coming up empty. It was difficult to think, especially since she was so tired.  
__  
__ "I wish I knew Granger, but I'm so tired. Can't we just...sleep?" Draco held out his hand, leading Hermione to the bed. Wearily they climbed in, embracing yet unable to sleep. Draco knew he wouldn't have a moment of peace until he told her.  
__  
__ "Malfoy?" He pulled away so he could look into her liquid brown eyes.  
__  
__ "Granger?" Hermione smiled sleepily, pulling his face down to hers. Draco rested his forehead on hers, willing her to open her eyes. She kissed the tip of his nose with a sigh. "Look at me, please."  
__  
__ "I just want to sleep." Hermione grumbled but the corner of her mouth tugged up into a tiny grin when she opened her eyes. She gasped at the intensity of the grey eyes boring into her own.  
__  
__ "Granger. I have to tell you. It's eating me alive." Hermione's hands lay on Draco's cheeks.  
__  
__ "What? What is it? You can tell me anything." She was afraid. He looked so serious and slightly terrified.  
__  
__ "Remember, that day? Was it today? I don't know. We were sitting in the grass and you were watching Bill with his kid and Potter with his kid and you..."  
__  
__ "I asked you if you loved me. Yes. I remember. It's ok, Malfoy. I shouldn't have asked." Hermione felt an overwhelming sadness as she said the words.  
__  
__ "No, Granger. Stop it. What I mean is. I should have said it. I wanted to. Really, I did. I'm just..." Draco couldn't look at her eyes anymore. He didn't want to see the rejection in her face. "Terrified, Granger. I'm terrified."  
__  
_ _"Why, Malfoy?" It was barely a whisper. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes and took the plunge.  
__  
__ "Granger. I...love you." Draco saw the disbelief in Hermione's features so he hurried on, "I didn't mean for it to happen. I'm sorry. It's just, you're so you and I couldn't help myself and I don't know how to make it stop. I hate it when you're not with me. I never wanted to get married. I never wanted to have children. I always thought they were smelly and disgusting and then you talked about them and I could bloody well see it. You've ruined me." Draco Malfoy rolled onto his back, staring at the nothingness where a ceiling should be. In the deep recesses of his mind, it was finally silent. He felt the bed shake slightly. In alarm he raised himself onto an elbow to find Hermione crying.  
__  
__ "Granger. I'm sorry. I didn't mean...to make you...cry." His heart hurt. He felt as if his life would never be the same, especially without her.  
__  
__ "Don't be sorry. You right bastard. Do you have any idea how horrid it is to hold in something you just want to shout about all the time? Of course you do. Apparently you've been doing it as well. I thought, I don't know what I thought, but I felt like I was dying not telling you. I thought you'd laugh at me. Or leave me. And I couldn't bear that. I've been a mess for so long and I don't feel like some pathetic mess with you. You make me feel like me." Hermione took a shuddering breath, ignoring the incredulity carved into Draco's face.  
__  
__ "Wait. Are you saying..?" He held his breath in agony.  
__  
__ "Yes, Malfoy, yes." She cried harder, throwing herself into his side. "I love you, I love you, I love you."  
__  
__ "Really?" Draco Malfoy was having great difficulty wrapping his brain around the idea of Hermione Granger loving him; of all the people she could love, she loved him; unworthy Draco Malfoy.  
__  
__ "Yes!" She cried, tears freely flowing down her flushed cheeks. He thought she had never looked more beautiful.  
__  
__ "Let me love you." Draco rolled her onto her back, unbuttoning her blouse, capturing her mouth.__  
_

* * *

After a vote, the witches and wizards in the Weasley Burrow sent Bill upstairs to check on Draco and Hermione. He came back down looking as though he was either going to vomit or pass out.

"I hate them. I really, really, hate them." Ginny started laughing hysterically, letting all the pent up angst and anxiety free.

"Are they awake?" Harry piped up over his wife's hysteria.

"I don't know. I don't care. I'm never going back up there. I hate them. Let's just say, whether they're awake or not? They're having a jolly good time." Ginny squealed in laughter as Bill headed straight for the bottle of firewhisky his father had extended.

"Someone, anyone, Obliviate me. Please. I can't bloody take it."


	22. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: This is so tedious. I wish I *did* own Harry Potter...then I'd never have to type a Disclaimer again.**

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**AN: I have the *best* reviewers in the *world*! Also. Don't hate me too much k? k. *kisses***

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Chapter 21

_"She won't remember." A soft, feminine voice whispered in his ear. A feeling of dread rose in the pit of his stomach._

_Hermione's curly, golden brown hair fanned out beneath her head as she writhed beneath Draco. Tiny whimpers escaped her swollen lips, urging him on. Draco braced himself above her, slowing his ministrations at the onset of the voice. Hermione raked her fingernails down his back, grasping him closer and closer still. She arched her back, crushing taut peaks against Draco's chest, wrapping her arms under his shoulders, her mouth nipping his neck._

_ "Granger. Did you...did you hear it?" He grunted, shifting his body onto its knees, Hermione held against him.  
__  
__ "No." She didn't want to talk. She wanted to love him. Hermione bit his earlobe while she rotated her hips, smiling when his breath caught.  
__  
__ "Where'd you learn that?" Draco rumbled into her hair.  
__  
__ "I have a good teacher." She gasped while her body responded to the motions, her teeth marking his skin.  
__  
__Later, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, their naked bodies entwined, both in their dreams and in The Burrow, heard a voice._

_"Earn it." It whispered. The existential voice was soft and silky, yet there was a threat underneath the words._

_"Earn what?" Hermione asked. Draco sat up quickly, scanning through the waning mist for the source.  
__  
__ "She won't remember." The laughter sounded like bells, swinging in a light breeze.  
__  
__ "I don't understand." Hermione chewed her lip.  
__  
__ "Remember what?" He couldn't breathe. The mist was fading; they could see their room in The Burrow, peaking around them.  
__  
__ "You." The voice was taunting them.  
__  
__ "What sort of game is this? It isn't funny, is it?" Draco was panicking. He felt it, in his bones, something horrid was happening to them. He couldn't control it. He couldn't fix it.  
__  
__ "You have to mean it." Draco felt cold fingertips run across his back. He knew they weren't Hermione's. He turned to her quickly, almost squeezing her face in his hands.  
__  
__ "Granger. Granger, listen to me. We haven't much time." He wanted to capture her swollen lips, lose himself in the frenzy of love, but he couldn't. He understood what 'she' was saying. He didn't have much time.  
__  
__ "Time? Malfoy what are you babbling on about? Oh. Look. We're at The Burrow!" Her wide brown eyes took in the familiar sights with a bit of excitement.  
__  
__ "Granger. It's a Memory Charm. Listen to me. We're almost out of time. You're going to forget, love. And I.." Draco's voice broke. He almost didn't want to tell her.  
__  
__ "Forget? Forget what? Forget...you? I could never forget you." She tried desperately to ease his worries, but he shook her, stopping her thought process.  
__  
__ "Yes. Exactly. That's what she means."  
__  
__ "She? She who?" Hermione tried to extract herself, but Draco held tight.  
__  
__ "Stop interrupting, Granger! It's a spell within a spell. That's really the brilliance behind Dark Magic. Remember me, Granger. Try at least. Don't be your regular stubborn, hating Draco Malfoy, self. Promise me." He was absolutely desperate. He was hoping against hope Hermione Granger wouldn't succumb to the effects of the Charm._

_ "I..I promise, Malfoy. I don't understand. I..I love you. I'm not going to forget that." Hermione_ _trembled as The Burrow became clearer and clearer yet her mind was fuzzy. Draco lay on the bed, dragging her into his arms, curling his body around her.  
__  
__ "When all this is madness is over? I'm going to make you fall in love with me." Hermione heard his words, but she was so tired. She just wanted to close her eyes and fall asleep.  
__  
__She reveled in the feel of the person behind her. Who was that again? She was having trouble remembering, but he was so warm, it didn't matter. Hermione felt a kiss upon her brow.  
__  
__ "I'll be seeing you, Granger."_

* * *

Draco Malfoy awoke in The Burrow with dried tears on his cheeks, feeling as though his heart had been broken inside his chest. He didn't want to move. He wanted to stay wrapped around Hermione Granger for the rest of his life. He inhaled her. Lavender, he discovered, with a hint of gardenia and vanilla. He twisted an unruly curl around his finger, letting his eyes feast on her naked, sleeping form, perhaps for the last time. He wanted to kiss her, but he was afraid she would awaken.

Instead, he climbed reluctantly from their bed, pulling on black robes someone had left for him on a nearby tatty chair. With regret, he left the bedroom, heading down the narrow stairs of The Burrow.  
Draco perused the room, smiling slightly, at the piles of sleeping witches and wizards. He spied Bill, mouth slack, leaning against the door.

"Bill. Wake up, mate." Draco kicked Bill's boot none too lightly. Bill's blue eyes fluttered open.

"HE'S UP! WAKE UP! HE'S UP!" Bill shouted struggling to his feet.

"Shhhh!" Draco yanked Bill's arm, dragging him into a corner. "I can't be here. They're going to wake her up. I can't be here when she wakes up. Is that my mother?!" Draco spied Narcissa Malfoy on the battered sofa, her head on Molly Weasley's shoulder.

"Can't be here? Course you can! Yes, it's your mum. She came 'round a fortnight ago. We've all been camped out here." Bill excitedly kicked George, who was sleeping on the table.

"I can't, Bill. She's not going to remember. I can't, I don't want to see her hate me. Couldn't bear it." Draco felt himself cracking at the seams. He didn't want to think about it.

"Wait. Come outside." Bill held open the door, scanning the still sleeping witches and wizards, knowing he only had moments. George slapped Ron, smacked Harry's head and pulled Ginny's hair in less than a minute.

"It's a Memory Charm. Don't know what sort. I figure it can't be Obliviate, but I was never proficient in the Dark Arts. Not really. It's a spell within a spell. That's all I know. And. She won't remember me. Or us. Or anything. She'll hate me, Bill. I've got to get out of here."

A great cheer rose from inside The Burrow. Bill took in Draco's red eyes, his pained expression, the way his arms wrapped around himself as if they were the only thing keeping him in one piece and made a decision.

"Go. Malfoy Manor. I'll inform your mum." Bill gave Draco a slight shove. Draco walked outside the wards of The Burrow and Disapparated. With a heavy heart, Bill headed back inside.

"Bill dear! Hermione's awake! Isn't it lovely?" Molly was giddy with excitement, hugging everyone in arm's reach. Narcissa Malfoy stood apart from the festivities, watching the stairs for her son.

"Narcissa?" Bill called her, "Might I have a word?" Reluctantly she nodded, her head hung low, sighing before she reached Bill.

"Something went wrong then?" Her voice trembled slightly, unnerving him a bit.

"No, no. Draco's awake. He left." Bill hated being the bearer of such news.

"What do you mean? He woke? He left? Why would he do that?!" George sidled closer, tilting his good ear toward them.

"He said...she wouldn't remember." Bill cringed as he watched Hermione throw herself into Ron's arms. Ron reddened considerably, awkwardly patting her back.

"Memory Charm." Narcissa was defeated. She hadn't thought of that. Of course her sister, being the purist she was would include a Memory Charm.

"You knew then?" Bill took a step backward, wary.

"Of course not. I know how Bellatrix worked. She was a blood purist. Just like my husband. Ridiculous really. The Dark Lord himself was a half blood. It's a simple charm. She used to practice it on me. It didn't work of course, but that never stopped her. It's not as destructive as Obliviate if that's any comfort." Narcissa needed to find her son. She needed to explain. Bill caught her elbow, in the doorway of The Burrow.

"Does it have a name? Is it reversible? Can we do anything?" Bill grasped at straws. He didn't want to see his friend revert to his old self; any version of his old self, really.

"Bellatrix only said 'forget' and with a few intricate waves of her wand, most Muggles stumbled around completely clueless. I don't know what it would do to a half-blood. It never worked on pureblood witches or wizards. It was probably her safety net." Narcissa took another step further, almost out of Bill's reach.

"There's got to be something. Please." He hated to beg. Yet, seeing Hermione with Ron made him ill. He knew it wasn't where she belonged, where she was truly happy. He stumbled toward her, his hands splayed in supplication.

"I've...never told anyone this." Narcissa leaned into Bill, her breath tickling his ear. "Never repeat it. Swear it." Bill nodded slowly.

"Promise." He gulped loudly.

"When I was a girl, I was quite fond of a Muggle-born boy. He was a bit older than me, but he made me laugh. He lived near us, across the pond really. We would catch frogs together and turn paper airplanes into butterflies. Bellatrix caught me. She was always an adept witch. She screamed at me, of course, telling me I was a blood-traitor but him? She cast her spell. He forgot me. Instantly. He ran home terrified. Yet, every day I went to the pond. And on the third day, he showed up. He just sort of stood there, looking at me. Then he said, 'I dreamed of you.' I took my paper airplane and turned it into a butterfly for him. He went home and I never saw him again.

"Bellatrix had informed my father. He decimated the entire family, never speaking of it to me. I had hope though. Before. Hope that he would remember. Maybe, she needs gentle reminders. I need to leave, Bill. My son..." She wiped the tears of grief from her eyes, spinning out of his arms before stalking outside the wards. He watched Narcissa Disapparate, hoping Draco Malfoy would accept the comfort of his mother.

"What's wrong with her?"

"How do we make it stop?"

"Is she mental?"

"Where's Narcissa?"

"Where's Malfoy?"

"Why is she touching Ron?"

"Why is Ron here?" George leaned casually against a doorjamb, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"GEORGE!" Everyone yelled, except Hermione who was still clinging to Ron as if he were a life vest.

"Mum! Don't abuse me. I'm handicapped!" Molly smacked George about the head with a dish towel.

"What's happening?" Hermione Granger's small voice interrupted the bedlam. Ron kept trying to extricate his arm from Hermione's grasp, but she wouldn't let go of him.

"Get. Her. Off. Me." Ron mouthed to Harry.

"Hermione, dear, come have a bite to eat. You must be starving." Molly gave George one last smack about the head, before leading Hermione to the kitchen.

"What's wrong with her?" Ron was rubbing his forearm, wincing slightly.

"She doesn't remember." Bill slumped against his father, needing the support. The collective gasp was almost deafening.

"Anything? Or just Malfoy?" Harry was the first to catch on, which filled Bill with a sense of relief.

"Just Malfoy."

"That's not so bad then is it?" Ron perked up considerably, a lop-sided grin plastered on his freckled face.

"There was a failsafe. Of course there was. Why didn't we think of that?" Bill thumped his own forehead, wincing.

"Oi!" Harry perched on the arm of the tattered sofa, biding his time, as Ron was impatient enough for both of them.

"Sorry. Ron. Harry. I spoke with Hattie a bit, Malfoy's house-elf…"

"She hid from me! She called me Nasty-Weasel!" Ron puffed his chest indignantly.

"She manage to help you a bit?" Harry blatantly ignored Ron's outburst.

"Bellatrix cast a spell, obviously. The pendant has its own magic which almost negated the clause Bellatrix cleverly intended to implement; however, she threw a bit of a Memory Charm in the mix, which there's nothing we can do about." Bill shoved a muffin into his mouth, crumbs cascading down his chest.

"That's it then? Hermione's stuck like this?" Ron was aghast.

"Well, Ron you wanted Old Hermione back, congratulations. Though, I'm glad I don't have to break the news to Astoria Greengrass. Good luck, mate." Harry clapped Ron on the back, chuckling.

"Well yeah, but, not like THIS. She really...she really loved the bloke. I mean, I hate him, but she didn't. She never…she never loved me like that." Ron seemed incredibly small suddenly as he observed the bewilderment in Hermione while she was being lead to the grand table. Molly fussed, heaping her plate with various offerings. Hermione searched for Ron among the Weasleys and Potters, upon finding him, her smile was wide and welcoming. "Not like this. We've got to fix it, Bill."

"Molly, no, thank you, I've plenty." Hermione picked apart the delicate pastry.

"Hermione dear, you've got to eat something. You must be famished!" Everything felt different to Hermione. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something was different, she was different. She felt an emptiness, a chill developing within her, raising her anxiety but she didn't know why. An integral piece of her was absent, yet she couldn't put a name to it. Hermione's hands reached into her dark blue robes, a sigh upon her lips as she touched the emeralds surrounding the pendant. Molly Weasley frowned.

"Let me just take that old thing off you." Bill was distracted by Ron's declaration, missing Molly standing behind Hermione, pushing her hair away from her neck.

"DON'T TOUCH IT!" Hermione's chair tipped over, her fist enclosing the ancestral pendant, her hair and eyes wild as she backed away from Molly.

"Mum." Molly waved away Bill's warning.

"Pish tosh Bill, I'm just trying to help." Hermione brandished her wand, pointing it unsteadily in Molly's direction. "Hermione dear, calm down."

"No. Don't touch me. Stay away. I want to go home. Bill! I WANT TO GO HOME!" Hermione's relief was evident when Bill stepped forward. She visibly relaxed, even when he lowered her arm.

"Come on, then." He struggled to keep his words light, hoping his tension wouldn't bleed through. Hermione held onto him, cutting off the circulation in his forearm even as they walked up the hill from The Burrow.

"Bill. I don't understand. I feel...wrong. I don't belong here. I hurt, Bill. Why do I hurt? Tell me. Please." There was a quiet sort of desperation to her. Hermione's nose had reddened considerably, her tangled hair giving her the look of a madwoman. Bill threw an arm over her shoulder at the top of the hill.

"I can't."

"Why not?!"

"It's not mine to tell. I'll give you this much. Remember Gilderoy Lockhart?" Hermione tugged her errant curls into some semblance of a knot on the base of her neck, shrugging in affirmation.

"He was Obliviated by Ron's horrid wand. What of it?"

"Some Memory Charms are stronger than others; you've been affected by one." Hermione laughed, loud and long.

"That's downright amusing, Bill. Good show." She wiped a tear with the corner of her cardigan.

"I can prove it." Bill knew he was headed into uncharted territories, perhaps ones that could prove to be detrimental.

"Alright then, have a go." Bill offered his hand to the wary witch. She took it angrily.

"You're going to take me on a Side-Along. I want you to grasp the pendant you refuse to glance at and think 'home'. I want you to see where it takes you." Hermione cocked her head to the side, studying the deep gouge of Bill's scar. She sighed with irritation, closed her palm around the pendant, feeling warmth spread to her extremities. Bill squeezed her hand gently before the familiar tug whisked them away.

"This can't be right. I don't live here...do I?" Hermione gazed upon the modest two story stone building. A single candle lit a small window. Bill strode behind Hermione as she hurried through the oak door. She wandered around the unfamiliar yet comforting surroundings in confusion.

"My things are here, Bill. These are my books and my clothes no less. I don't feel well. My head..." As Hermione's hand ran across the back of the paisley settee, swirls of memories became convoluted until she succumbed to the darkness.  
Bill caught Hermione before her head hit the hardwood floors, carrying her delicately, as if she were fine china, before Apparating to The Burrow.

Hermione dreamt of laughter and smiles, furtive kisses, declarations of love and chocolate gateau. Her mauve lips curled into smiles of contentment while soft sighs escaped. Bill kept watch over her, for Draco Malfoy's sake rather than his own. Draco hadn't answered a single owl sent forth, which worried Bill considerably. He knew Draco would want him to watch over her, even if he refused to admit it.

Hermione still attempted to cling to Ron whenever the opportunity arose. Ceaselessly he extricated himself, gently explaining to the drastically altered witch they were no longer an item. Even Harry managed to admire the hapless wizard's insistence.

"I know it's only been a bloody week, but she's driving me bonkers, Harry. Yesterday, she bloody kissed me! Right in front of my mum! Mum cried. She cried, Harry. I dunno which is worse! Hermione mauling me or Mum encouraging her! I caught her telling 'Mione to give me time and I'd come around. Not bloody likely. You've got to talk her. She'll listen to you. Astoria wants to bloody jinx the lot of them." If it wasn't such a serious situation, Harry would have found himself rolling with laughter. Ron's freckled face was flushed with something varying between embarrassment and rage.

"You told Astoria? I'm impressed Ron." Harry had spent the past few days avoiding Hermione if it could be helped. He didn't know how to broach the subject of her and Malfoy. He didn't know if he wanted to, so avoidance seemed the best course of action.

"I couldn't bloody well let her think I'm avoiding her, Harry. She understands me. She doesn't make me feel stupid. Maybe I _am_ stupid, but I don't feel that way with her. I think that's how it's supposed to be, you know?" Ron scrubbed his forehead as if it were laden with debris. Harry understood his friend perfectly. Ron was right. That was exactly how it was supposed to be.

"Suggestions?"  
"We could just...tell her. Maybe she wouldn't take it too badly. Maybe it'd jar her shoddy memory and..." Ron trailed off recognising the absurdity.  
"We should have Ginny drop some hints." Harry shrugged, unable to formulate a better plan.  
"Ginny? She'll beat Hermione into submission. Violent wife you've got there."

The pops of Apparition made the Weasley men and Harry Potter rush outside, their wands drawn.  
"Ohhh Harry. It's just us." A wispy, lilting voice floated across the tall grass.

"Luna. Neville. What are you.." Harry started.

"Doing here? Yeah uhm, He-Hello Harry." Neville Longbottom still had a tendency to stutter a bit in nervousness but his courage more than made up for that tiny flaw. "The Minister sent us. We've been uhm working on something for him, sorry Harry. It's really like being in DA. We've been traveling about rounding up the remaining Death Eaters and sympathizers." Neville beamed under Harry's mildly impressed expression.

"Well. Now I understand why Shacklebolt has been inaccessible." Harry simply spoke what everyone else was thinking.

"Yeah, pretty much. It's been bloody fantastic. Though, Malfoy's not here is he?" Neville fidgeted, shuffling his feet, staring at the ground.  
"Actually he left days ago." Bill scooted around Harry, his eyes narrowing on Neville.

"Oh. I hope he isn't at Malfoy Manor. His dad has uhm, well he's gone a bit mental. Seems he's got loads of Dark Arts artifacts and he's unwilling to surrender them. Minister Shacklebolt sent me here to ask you lot for a bit of help."

"Have you managed to contact him?" Arthur Weasley stepped to the forefront.

"I've sent owls, of course. He hasn't responded...to any of them." Bill wiped his hands on the front of his jeans.

"That's not like him at all, considering."

Hermione and Molly stepped into the sunlight. Molly kept a firm grip on Hermione's arm as she strayed toward Ron. Ron pushed passed his mother and his brothers to stand next to Harry.

"Oi. What's goin' on?" Ron pointed at Neville.

"Lucius has gone mental. Apparently he's throwing curses about the Manor. Daphne and Astoria Greengrass are trapped, for lack of a better term, inside. Bill says Malfoy's there and I'm assuming Narcissa as well. Luna and I have been sent to rally the troops so to speak." Neville stumbled a bit over his words when he saw Hermione glaring at him.

"Honestly? Who cares? I'm sorry that's a bit rude, but it's the Malfoys of all people. Ow! Don't hit me!" Ginny laid into Hermione. She kicked Hermione in the shins before smacking her about the head and arms. Harry was forced to pick up his violent wife, dragging her away from Hermione.

"Fix her, Harry! Fix her now!" Ginny bellowed, kicking her feet frantically.

"I can't. You know I can't." Harry whispered to his wife as the tears of frustration and anger streamed down her distraught face.

"We've got to go. Straight away. Is she ok? Er, are they alright?" Ron looked poised to run at a moment's notice.

"So far, yeah. Don't know how long that will last. Can't really get close or anything without having spells shot at us, but if Lucius is concentrating on us, he doesn't have time to injure them or anything." Luna let Neville handle the talking. She was much more intrigued with Hermione. She drifted slowly toward Hermione. She was glowering at everyone. Molly was insisting Hermione stay near the door, to her growing frustration.

"Ohh. She's a bit broken." Luna walked in slow circles around Hermione, leaning in intermittently, her wide eyes taking in every speck of lint, inhaling every so often. "Don't worry too much, Molly. It'll all get sorted out. If only she wasn't so stubborn." Luna started plucking the air around Hermione as Hermione batted the blonde's hands away.

"There's nothing wrong with me. Stop it." Hermione was furious, yet if she were asked, she would not have an answer as to why.

"_Amor Vincit Omnia_." Luna smiled serenely, unfazed by Hermione's actions. She skipped to Neville's side.

"We should be going. Hannah will be worried." Luna waved at the gathering of Weasleys. "Come quickly, would you?" She skipped to the top of hill, Disapparating. Neville quickly followed her.

Hermione watched the Weasleys and Potters scramble about, looking for wands, gathering potions and throwing on their robes.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON? HAVE YOU ALL GONE MAD?" Hermione screamed, her voice cracking attempting to keep the volume.

"No. We're fine dear. Come along. Why don't you keep George company? He's going to stay behind with little James. He doesn't have it in him to fight anymore." Molly tried to lead Hermione inside The Burrow, but she balked.

"No. Why? I don't understand. Why are you all rushing off to help the Malfoys, of all people? The Malfoys? Have I been under a rock or something?"

"Or something." Ron mumbled, earning him a smack from Ginny. "So abusive." He rubbed his red hair, kissing Molly on the cheek, heading out.

"What's happened? Wait. It's chilly. Summers over? Where have I been? What's happened? Tell me, please." Hermione begged her magical mother.

"Maybe dear, you should come with us. It might help you a bit." Molly suggested avoiding the glares of her husband and sons. Hermione fingered the pendant she continued to wear around her neck, still not glancing at it, but it gave her a sense of comfort she didn't understand.

"She'll be a distraction. We can't take her." Harry sputtered, looking to Arthur and George for solidarity.

"I'll take her." Ginny spoke up, holding Hermione's hand in her own. Molly pressed Hermione's wand into her hand, motioning for them to leave before the men interfered.

"This is madness." Arthur stroked the stubble on his chin. "We don't have time for disagreements. We really must go." One by one the Weasleys and Potters Disapparated, leaving Ginny and Hermione on the hill.

"Are you ready?" Ginny tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, her blue eyes fastened on Hermione.

"I can't Apparate there. I've never been. At least, I don't think so, have I?" Hermione was confused. There seemed to be bits and pieces missing in her memories, covered almost, with a shroud. Although Bill had informed her of the elusive Memory Charm, Hermione had not truly believed such a thing possible.

"Alright listen. I'm not supposed to tell you anything. I promised Harry and Bill. I just want you to hold that pendant you've been stroking. Hold it tight. Think. Not with your head. You do that too much as it is, annoying really, but with your heart. If it works, you'll go where you need to go. If it doesn't, I'll come back for you, as soon as I can." A quick kiss laid on Hermione's cheek and Ginny was gone. George watched Hermione stand at the top of the hill, alone, finally deigning to glance at the pendant dangling on her chest.

Hermione picked up the pendant, turning it over and over in her palms before truly looking at it. She gasped.

"That's the Malfoy Family Crest. Why am I..." She trailed off as a vague memory floated to the surface. Malfoy Manor. A silver dress. The pendant. Draco Malfoy smiling. Hermione clutched the pendant in her hand, raised her wand and Disapparated.

George Weasley nodded slowly, smiling as he patted the happy youngster's bum.

"There's hope yet, James."


	23. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: I am the walrus. Fine, I'm not the walrus and I'm not JK Rowling either. pfft.**

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**AN: OhEmGee - we're almost done. I'm sad..*sniff* *kisses***

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Chapter 22

"Take to the trees!" Harry shouted, taking cover as curses hit the ground in front of him. Neville and Luna ran toward the trees closest to Malfoy Manor, dodging spells and casting in retaliation. He winced as Bill took a spell directly to the chest, blasting him into a rotted log. Harry watched Bill lurch to his feet and roar in fury. Bill charged directly for the Malfoy Manor front door.

"Molly! Down!" Molly Weasley dove behind a boulder, nodding thanks to her husband. Harry maneuvered his way through overgrown bushes, boulders and trees to find himself within a stone's throw of marble steps. Ginny crashed into him.

"Where's Hermione? I thought you were bringing her?" Ginny ducked hearing Lucius scream 'stupefy'.

"She's not here? I was sure she'd be here." Harry didn't have the opportunity to respond, Ginny ran up the steps, securing herself a location in an outside corner of the Manor.

Harry felt lost. He didn't expect to enter the fray ever again, and yet here he was, cowering behind a bush as Cho Chang, Hannah Abbott and even Ron Weasley were throwing curses through broken windows of Malfoy Manor. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was afraid. He saw Ginny, peaking around the monstrous potted plant.

"Impedimenta!" Lucius Malfoy giggled like a madman. Harry thought his heart was going to stop. Ginny ducked; anger and determination flashing in her eyes.  
"STUPEFY!" Ginny screamed. Harry found himself tackling Ginny, crashing to the ground. Green sparks flew past their ears.

"Thanks, Harry. Love you." She smiled, kissed his cheek, jumped up and rushed around the side of the Manor.

"Bombardo!" Bill was angry. The door exploded, debris flying past his face, cutting his chin. "Ginny! Where's Hermione?" Bill shouted to his sister, shooting spells toward the interior.

"Don't know! Haven't seen her! Duck!" Ginny and Bill hit the ground. Inside Malfoy Manor, they heard a scream.

"Hermione." They said in unison, coughing through the dirt, dust and haze, before crawling inside the manor.

Hermione discovered herself in the midst of a wizard duel. Narcissa Malfoy was throwing jinxes at her husband as he dodged them, shooting them back. She was surprised to find herself inside. She assumed the wards imposed on the Manor would cause her to land outside with the rest of the witches and wizards. She found herself impressed by Narcissa's proficiency as she blocked yet another jinx from Lucius.

"THERE'S A FILTHY MUDBLOOD IN MY HOUSE!" Lucius bellowed, his face contorted in rage, his blonde hair swinging about, his face flushed and his eyes a bit on the wild, crazy side. Hermione stepped backward, hiding in the shadows. Her hands were shaking. She wasn't made for battle. Hermione didn't know if she should intervene or remain silent in the shadows until the cavalry broke down the door. Lucius Malfoy danced, dodging everything Narcissa threw at him.

"Crucio!" Narcissa was flailing on the ground, contorted in pain. For reasons unknown to her, this made Hermione ache in the pit of her stomach. She aimed her wand at Lucius, still in the shadows.

"Avis Oppungo!" She felt inappropriate laughter escape her lips as the hoard of yellow birds dived at Lucius Malfoy's head. He screamed like a woman, running toward the foyer, the birds chasing after him. Hermione hurried down the winding steps, stopping at Narcissa's side.

"Are you alright? Of course you're not. Can you move? We've got to get you out of here." Hermione shook Narcissa who continually stared at the bushy haired witch in front of her. Narcissa got to her feet slowly, her knees buckling slightly, but she allowed the young witch to lead her toward the conservatory, until they went out the French doors.  
"Psst. Arthur! Take her." Hermione motioned toward Arthur Weasley hiding behind a particularly small bush, which concealed only his head. Arthur popped up, ambled over as quickly, taking Narcissa's hand.

"Are you alright?" Narcissa shook her head slowly, leaning on Arthur. Hermione was once more, conflicted. Why was Arthur Weasley bestowing such kindness on Narcissa Malfoy? Why was Narcissa Malfoy accepting it as if it were an everyday occurrence? What on earth had happened? She didn't have time to continuously ponder these thoughts as an unearthly scream broke her concentration.

"Draco." Narcissa gasped, trying to turn back toward the Manor, but Arthur dragged her away.

"Please." She turned to Hermione, her blue eyes begging. Hermione nodded curtly, running back into the manor toward the sounds of the screams.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was having the time of his life, using the Cruciatus Curse on his son, laughing with glee every time Draco groaned, squirmed and yes, screamed. Hermione came upon them and skidded to a stop, her mouth dropped open in horror. Draco Malfoy was curled into a ball, his wand in his hand, but he refused to lift it to protect himself. A dull throb began, burrowing itself in the base of Hermione's skull. It quickly traveled to her heart and it was as if a fist were squeezing the very life from her.

"This is what happens, Draco, when you love a filthy, dirty, disgusting Mudblood. Crucio!" Lucius danced to and fro with an imaginary partner. Hermione squirmed uncomfortably. She didn't like what she was feeling. It wasn't logical to her. She had always detested Draco Malfoy, so why was she feeling so much pain? Why did it hurt her to see him contorted in torture?

"Doesn't matter." Draco gritted through his clenched teeth. "Just end it, why don't you, Father?" His voice was almost pleading for his father to murder him and Lucius laughed, flinging his long blonde hair over his shoulder, skipping along the checkered floor.

"Aww, poor, poor Draco. Does the dirty little bitch not love you? Did she smarten up and leave you flat? She's smarter than I gave her credit for. You always were a bit of a simpering sop. Weak. Crucio!" Lucius skipped about in circles, keeping his wand trained on his only son. Hermione felt herself shaking. She wasn't sure if it was from fear or anger or even something else, but she knew, it was up to her to do something.

For the first time in her life, she didn't stop to think. She ran across the checkered pattern floor, threw herself in front of Draco Malfoy and screamed.

"PROTEGO HORRIBILIS!" The Dark Arts Shield Charm burst forth from her wand, blowing her hair back, making her knees buckle, but she refused to yield. Using both hands to wield her wand, she faced off against a psychotic Lucius Malfoy. Sweat broke out across her brow, and she held.

"Bombardo!" Hermione couldn't see who cast the spell, but the door to the manor burst apart.

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione almost wept in relief, as Lucius Malfoy's wand flew into the capable hands of Ginny Weasley. Hermione's knees buckled causing her to fall onto the black and white floor in a heap. Draco Malfoy pulled his body toward her. He couldn't help himself.

"You shouldn't have come. Not for me." His voice was strangled, riddled with inconceivable pain, yet still, he reached for a strand of Hermione's hair. She met his grey eyes, confusion flickering across her brow.

"I don't...understand..." Hermione felt a pang in her chest; under her ribs where her heart lived, adding to her confusion. Her body had a mind of its own. She watched her hand reach for him, cupping his face.

"Not for me." Draco repeated, "I'm not worth it." His hand dropped as the agony overtook him.

"ASTORIA!" Ron ran into the manor bellowing, his face flushed. Bill was wrestling Lucius Malfoy to the ground; it was obviously cathartic for him, since he refrained from using magic. Molly Weasley, covered in flour, emerged from the kitchen, two young brunettes behind her.

"I've got them. They're alright." Molly stumbled a bit, exhausted.

"Ron? Ron!" The short, younger brunette shouted, running across the floor, flinging herself into Ron Weasley's arms. His eyes closed, holding her tight, relief pouring through him.

In that moment, Ron realised, Hermione had been right all along. They never would have worked. As much as he had thought he loved her, he never loved her as much as he loved Astoria Greengrass. He saw Hermione watching him curiously, her hand still on Draco Malfoy's unconscious cheek. Ron whispered something to Astoria. She nodded, kissing his cheek. He walked toward Hermione slowly.

"Hermione, listen. Uhm. I'm sorry, ya know? I was, well I was a right git. You were right. We were always better as friends. I'm sorry I didn't understand what you were going through. I was being selfish. I know that now. I just. I want you to be happy. No matter what you choose." Ron glanced at Draco, without malice, for the first time in his life. Today was a day full of firsts for Ron Weasley. He smiled at Hermione and went back into the welcoming arms of Astoria Greengrass.

Hermione sat on the cold floor, her hand now being held by Draco Malfoy, completely stunned. Everything she thought she knew had disintegrated before her very eyes. She thought Draco Malfoy hated her with a fiery passion. She thought Ron loved her and always would. She thought she was happy, at least as happy as she'd ever been. And yet, there was this niggling feeling, she had it all wrong. It felt right, having Draco Malfoy hold her hand. It felt right, to see Ron with Astoria.

Draco held her hand, afraid to move, afraid she wasn't real. He knew she didn't remember. He could see it in her empty eyes. They weren't filled with love, lust or anything else he'd grown familiar with over their months together. He didn't want to open his eyes. He didn't want it to be a figment of his imagination. He just wanted to feel her hand in his.

"Ms Granger? Is he...is he alright?" Narcissa Malfoy limped into the foyer, supported by Arthur Weasley.

"Uhm well. He's alive. He's breathing. So, that's something, right?" Narcissa sank next to Hermione, looking in her eyes for some spark of recognition.

"Has he said anything?" Narcissa stroked her son's pale blonde hair, brushing it off his forehead.

"He said," Hermione felt tears on her cheeks, "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me." She wiped away the tears as they flowed faster. "He said I shouldn't have come. He said...he wasn't worth it." Hermione choked on a sob, her hand instinctively going to the pendant.

* * *

Ginny sat with Hermione in the orchard of The Burrow, letting her friend weep and wail her frustrations.

"Why won't it stop? What's wrong with me?" Hermione spoke between sobs. It had been hours and still, she continued. Ginny rubbed her back in slow circles.

"Do you remember the last time we sat here?" Ginny stared up at the sky, basking in the crisp autumn day. Hermione hiccuped, wiping her face on her robes.

"Uhm. Vaguely? I think. Why?" She found a used handkerchief in her pocket and blew her nose noisily.

"I just want you to relax...and think about it for a moment." Hermione took a shuddering breath, leaned against the rough bark of the tree and closed her eyes.

Hermione could feel the warm sun on her face. In the distance she could see Bill laughing with Victoire. Harry was carrying James, pointing to the butterflies in the sky. She felt a warm hand on her breast, felt her mouth form into a smile. There were bits and pieces of a conversation, she couldn't catch, but knew it was there. Hermione turned to look at the person being so brazen. She opened her eyes, gasping.

"What...what was THAT?" Her skin still felt warm as if he were still touching her. She felt a flutter in her stomach, her heart quickened. Ginny smiled broadly.

"It was a memory, I bet. It's a good start, I think. Baby steps. You'll get there. Give yourself some time. You've been struggling for days now. Think of today as day one." Ginny stood up and headed back toward the house.

"Wait! Where...where is he?" Hermione's stomach clenched with nerves.

"St Mungo's. He's a bit of a mess after Lucius had a go. Do you...want to see him?" Ginny cocked her head, watching her friend carefully. Hermione stood up quickly, brushing the dirt from her gray slacks.

"I..I don't...not today." Hermione's head ached from the full range of emotions.

"Sure, I understand, sort of. C'mon. Mum's chomping at the bit to feed you. Get a move on woman!"

* * *

"Mum. Why are you here? Go away." Draco Malfoy refused to look at his mother from his hospital bed. He had managed to choke down a few potions at the Mediwitches insistence, but he didn't wish to speak to his mother.

"Draco, please." Narcissa begged her son. She wished there was magic to take away his emotional pain.

"I was always going to lose her," He muttered bitterly. "Father was right. I am weak. She's never going to remember me. She's going to hate me. She was the only good thing in my life. I wish Father had done me in." Draco Malfoy cried. For himself. For Hermione. Narcissa knew it was time to tell him. Time for her son to know about the Muggle-born wizard of her childhood.

Her words started slow and stilted, as Draco continued to ignore her, staring at the blank wall. As she continued, he locked eyes with her, hanging on his mother's every word. When she finished, Narcissa extended her hand, Draco grasped it as if it were a lifeline. Perhaps to him, it was.

"You're not making this up? He remembered?" The raw torment broke Narcissa's heart.

"He started to, yes."

"That's something then." He drew a shuddering breath, closing his eyes. Narcissa waited until his breath became slow and deep before leaving his hospital room.

"When he wakes, please, give him some Calming Drought." The Mediwitch curtsied with affirmation.

Narcissa Malfoy sat by her son's bedside, refusing to leave him. She had already lost her husband to madness. If she was being honest with herself, it didn't bother her as much as it probably should. She had an inkling it was headed in this direction the moment Draco had arrived on their doorstep. His anguish was ripping him to shreds. He had asked if he could stay before collapsing in Narcissa's arm and she had been unable to deny him. She brought him to his childhood suite, setting the house-elves to care for him. Lucius had fumed, ranting about the audacity of their Blood Traitor son. He intercepted the owls from Bill, cackling when he read of Hermione's lack of progress.

"We'll be rid of her yet!" He had declared, his silver eyes shining in madness. He demanded the presence of Daphne and Astoria Greengrass for tea, under the premise of repairing family relations. They had come, of course they had come. Daphne and Astoria were old family friends. They hadn't expected to arrive amidst absolute madness. Lucius fumed when Draco had refused to participate, choosing instead to wallow in his misery.

It all fell apart with the Minister's Dark Arts Society arrived, demanding to search the grounds. Lucius housed so much hatred; his mind could not cope with it, sending him sprawling into the throws of insanity. Narcissa had watched in horror while her husband locked Daphne and Astoria in a cupboard in the kitchen. She had tried to talk some sense into him, but he was long gone.

_'It was only a matter of time.'_ Narcissa convinced herself while watching her son slumber with soft eyes.

Lucius had always been a bit overbearing, incredibly stubborn and ridiculously naive. Narcissa was grateful her son did not inherit more of his qualities from his father. She didn't mind Draco ignoring her. It would have, before, but she had changed. The woman Lucius said would never change, had discovered there are more important things than hate.

On the third day of Draco Malfoy's recovery. Hermione Granger walked in.

* * *

"I don't think I can do this." Hermione murmured to Ginny as they walked down the long corridor of St Mungo's.

"It was your idea. I didn't drag you here. Do you wish to go?" Ginny's crossed arms, raised eyebrows, and clenched jaw almost made Hermione want to laugh.

"I..I feel as if I'm supposed to be here. It feels right. I don't understand everything, but there are these flashes and I think they're memories and he's in them and..." Hermione's voice started to rise in volume and octave. Ginny knew exactly where this was going and St Mungo's was no place for Hermione to have a panic attack.

"Yes, yes. It's alright. Breathe. If this is where you feel you need to be, than you're in the right place. You can do it. I'll wait over there for you." Ginny gestured toward a few upholstered chairs in front of blank walls and dim windows.

Hermione took the long walk alone. She twirled her hair and chewed her lip raw. A Mediwitch directed her to Draco Malfoy's room, but she couldn't make herself walk through the door. She caught a glimpse of Narcissa sitting by his bedside and it unnerved her a bit. Hermione closed her eyes, breathing deep.

_'Granger. You're doing it again.'_ The small voice in her mind fluttered the words into her brain. It was his voice.

_ 'Ready?'_ His voice asked her gently.

"No." Hermione answered aloud, feeling a sense of deja vu.

_ 'Me either.'  
_  
"I can't do this." Hermione was well aware she was speaking to herself in the middle of a hospital corridor, but the Mediwitches ignored her.

'Sure _you can. You can do anything.'_ A sense of calm overcame her. Hermione Granger walked into Draco Malfoy's hospital room with her heart pounding furiously in her throat.


	24. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: I own the cheesestick I'm currently eating but I do not own Harry Potter.**

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**AN: Can you believe it?! One more chapter and then the epilogue...*kisses***

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Chapter 23

"Oh my!" Narcissa Malfoy exclaimed, watching Hermione's tentative steps forward. Draco didn't move an inch, used to his mother's random exclamations.

"I'm, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt." Hermione stuttered, backing out of the room slowly. Her eyes flitted to Malfoy and she knew he was holding his breath, though she didn't wish to analyze how she knew. Narcissa watched the nervous witch with curious eyes.

"Why did you come?" Her expression was wary yet hopeful, which was quite confusing to Hermione Granger.

"Well, I uhm, I don't know really. Couldn't quite, stop myself. It felt like something I had to do? As well as the fact I haven't...been sleeping much, if at all and well, Ginny thought it might be therapeutic or something and..."

"Granger. You're doing it again." Draco Malfoy spoke, his eyes clamped closed, his breaths quick. Hermione fingered her pendant; it had become a subconscious habit. Her heart caught in her throat. He looked so very thin, smudges under his eyes, his face was gaunt and so incredibly forlorn. Hermione burst into tears, again.

"My dear, are you alright?" Narcissa hovered between her son and Hermione, unsure who she should attend. She led Hermione to the chair she'd requested from the Mediwitches, stationed directly between Draco's bed and the blank wall he constantly insisted on staring. Hermione flounced into it, practically wailing with distress.

"No! I'm not alright. Not at all. I'm a bloody mess and I haven't the foggiest idea why! And, and I keep having these dreams every time I close my eyes, which is a lot since I can't bloody sleep! I can't think. Every single bleeding time I try..." Hermione sobbed, drawing a shaky breath, 'HE'S there and no one will tell me why and I don't know how to make it stop and I hate it." She buried her head on the edge of Draco's bed, sobs wracking her body.

Narcissa Malfoy stretched forward a tentative hand and patted Hermione Granger's back lightly. She kept her eyes on her son, concealing a triumphant smirk when he opened his eyes, turning toward Hermione. She watched his hand. It shook slightly as it inched its way toward a stray curl.

"Is she real?" Narcissa shuddered. She was amazed by the amount of raw torment in her son.

"Yes, Draco. She's real. She's here. I have things to attend to. I'll come see you later." Narcissa didn't wish to witness their interactions; she was terrified she would come undone.

"Granger. Granger. I know you hear me. Look at me." Draco Malfoy's voice was hoarse, but the pleading in it made Hermione raise her head.

"I don't want to look at you. I see you everywhere." She sniffled, tears dripping off her cheek onto his bed.  
"Good." Draco rubbed her curl between his fingers, reveling in the feel of it. He sat up slightly, leaned over and smelled her hair.

"What...what are you doing, Malfoy?" Hermione's wide brown eyes darted around the bare room.

"Remembering. Come, sit here. Please?" He patted a small space next to him in his hospital bed.

"C'mon Granger. I don't bite." Warily, Hermione found herself perched on the edge of Draco Malfoy's bed. She gasped when he snaked his arm around her, clasping her to his chest.

"Actually, I do bite, but you like it." Hermione wanted to slap him. She wanted to leap from his bed and run from the room, but she didn't. Her fingers were trapped against his chest, his heartbeat throbbing into her hand.

"I most certainly do not!" Hermione wanted to feel more outrage than she did. Draco smiled. It felt good to him to smile, though Hermione couldn't remember if she had ever seen him do such a thing.

"You do. Right here." He lightly touched her earlobe. "And here." His long, pale digits tapped the nape of her neck. Hermione gasped, her hand instinctively rubbing the pendant. Draco Malfoy noticed the movement wondering if she remembered when he'd given it to her.

"I'm so confused. You confuse me. Why won't anyone tell me what happened?" Hermione searched his face as if it held the answer.

"Well love, it's not their story to tell." He loved when her brows furrowed and she chewed the corner of her bottom lip.

"Whose story is it then?" He could lose himself in her golden brown eyes for the rest of his life he decided.

"It's mine. It's yours. It's ours." Hermione thought for a moment, chewing her lip, before nodding.

"Will you tell it to me?" Draco smiled, a small, half smile yet Hermione's heart pounded, trying to beat its way out of her chest. He patted the pillow, shifted his body and laid down. Hermione found herself settled against his chest, listening to his heart thump under her head as if she belonged there.

"Once upon a magical time, there a horrid little boy who was Sorted into Slytherin. There was also an obnoxious know it all Muggle-born witch who was Sorted into Gryffindor. They hated each other at first sight.

"You see, the little boy's father was a right bastard. He taught his son to hate everyone who was different. Despise everyone who had different blood than they did. Which is silly when you think about it, since children don't have any control of that. The little girl was wicked brilliant. She beat the little boy in every single class, except Potions, which made him very, very angry with her. His father was furious with him all the time, telling him how stupid and useless he was and that no one ever remembered who came in second place. The little boy's father beat him incessantly, determined to erase every remaining piece of humanity." Hermione shuddered a bit. Draco wrapped his other arm around her, finding peace in her scent.

"The little girl made friends with horrid people. A stupid red haired git and an orphan boy who really isn't that bad once you get to know him a bit. They hated the little boy. So he hated them back. Fair was fair. Until one day, in their fourth year, there was a dance called the Yule Ball. The little boy knew he was done for..."

Narcissa stood at the door, eavesdropping on his story, a slight smile painted on her usually stoic features. Even the Mediwitches appreciated the moment, knowing it couldn't possibly last. When Narcissa returned, her heart leapt. As much as Narcissa knew she never would have chosen Hermione Granger for her son, she would be a fool to deny the longings of his heart. Draco twisted Hermione's hair around his fingers carefully, so as not to wake her. Hermione slumbered against him, the beating of his heart lulling her to sleep. Gently Draco rested his cheek on the top of her head, his face covered in golden brown curls.

"Draco. If the time came, when you were forced to choose..." Narcissa pranced to the foot of his hospital bed expectantly. His silver eyes moved to find his mother, the rest of him stayed ensconced in Ms. Granger.

"Choose?" His words were muffled, the curls swaying in front of his mouth.

"Yes, Draco. Choose, between your inheritance and your...heart." Narcissa knew she wouldn't make him choose, she just had to be sure. It was the stubbornness of the Black Family, guiding her in the quest for knowledge. Hermione whimpered against him and his arms instinctively tightened. Narcissa observed her son soothing the woman in his arms with whispered words and loving caresses.

"What's the bloody point of having all the riches in world if you've no one to share them?" Narcissa's long fingernails tapped the foot rail of his bed. Her head bowed slightly, tears glistening in her formerly cold, blue eyes.

"Draco, I..." She didn't want his hopes raised so high, he would crumble into nothingness if the woman he loved never recalled him.

"Mum. I know she won't stay. I know she doesn't remember, just, let me please. Let me have these precious few moments before she rips out my heart." His mother's thin lips pressed tightly together. She couldn't refuse him. Draco hadn't called her Mum since he was a small, scared child. It plucked her heart strings in the most curious way.

A few days after Hermione's first visit, Draco was released from St Mungo's with strict orders not to Apparate anywhere until he regained his strength. Narcissa was thrilled to have Draco back in Malfoy Manor, even if he refused to speak of his father. She didn't ask where he had been living and he didn't offer the information. Draco Malfoy knew he couldn't face his cabin in the wood without Hermione. If she never came back to him, he knew he'd never return there.

Every day for two weeks they met. They had tea in the garden of Malfoy Manor. They sat on the settee in front of the fire place. Hermione's memories grew, but slowly, her unique stubbornness and fear were slowing her progress.

Her visits grew more and more sporadic. Secretly, Draco wondered if it had anything to do with Ron Weasley and Astoria Greengrass announcing their engagement. Bill Weasley started showing up in her place, making excuses as if Draco would easily accept them.

"She went back to work. The Minister suggested a new position and she accepted it. She works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It's busy work, Draco. She had to get back to her life eventually." Draco flung the book he was reading into the fireplace.

"A life without me, you mean."

"Mate, that's not what I meant. She's been coming 'round. You really should consider going to work Draco. It's not healthy to stay here. Go home." Bill Weasley was tired of being caught in the middle of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, if there was a way to fix them, he'd do it.

"Go home? GO HOME?! I can't go home. She's there. She's everywhere. I can't eat. I can't breathe. I can't think. I can't do anything but wait for her to come back. That's how pathetic I am, Bill." Draco Malfoy punched the fireplace. His knuckles cracked loudly and bled, but he uttered not a solitary sound. His pain went deeper than a few broken fingers.

"How long has it been? Since you've seen her?" Bill prodded gently, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"A bloody month. Thirty-seven days to be exact. Can't take it. Bill? Would you do me a service?"  
Draco clasped Bill's shoulders, staring desperately into his friend's wary blue eyes.

"Depends..." Bill didn't have a good feeling about this.

"Obliviate me."

* * *

"Hermione Granger. I'm surprised at you." Bill Weasley burst into her office at the Ministry, looking angrier than usual. Bill always looked a bit perturbed due to his scar, but this was something different. Hermione squeaked, dropping the armload of books she was carting back to her desk.

"Bill! You frightened me. Whatever are you going on about?" She shoved stray curls out of her face, willing them to stay in the bun, but they refused.

"I just came from Malfoy Manor. Do you know what Draco asked me to do? Do you? Of course you don't! You haven't bothered to go out there for over a month now! That's ridiculous. You said you were going to try. Avoiding him is trying? He's a right wreck." Bill slammed his fist on her desk, sending a container of quills falling onto the floor.

"Bill. Calm down. I've been a bit busy. Shacklebolt has me doing all sorts of...wait. What did he ask you to do?" Hermione felt a bit of panic. She felt normal at work. She could control her caseload, her paperwork, her research, even her hours.

Draco Malfoy unnerved her. Hermione didn't like to feel that way, so she avoided it, without thinking of the consequences of her actions. Instead, she worked her fingers to the bone, falling into exhaustion in order to avoid the alluring whisper of memories.

Bill leaned over her desk, causing Hermione to move away from him, her thighs hitting the back of her high backed chair, forcing her to sit.

"He. Asked. Me. To. Obliviate. Him." The revulsion shuddered through her, sweat beading across her brow. Hermione felt the bile rising in her throat. She knew she wasn't going to make it to the lavatory. She retched, leaning over into a trash pail, heaving. "My sentiments exactly." Bill flounced into the chair across from Hermione.

"Are you doing it again? I told you to see someone about that!" Ginny burst into Hermione's office, stopping short upon spying her brother. Bill eyed his sister curiously.

"How long has this been going on eh?" Bill kept a watchful eye on Ginny as he waited for Hermione to answer.

"Oh well, uhm, a few days? Maybe a week? I'm not sure. It goes away. It's nothing to worry about. Probably just nerves." Hermione's words echoed in the pail. Bill watched the flush creep up Ginny's neck, ending on her freckled cheeks. With a practiced eye, he knew his baby sister was hiding something from him. Bill decided to push the envelope.

"You know, Fleur had a tendency to do that too. We thought perhaps it was a bit of nerves. Certain smells really drove her wild. Those crab cakes she used to adore, couldn't stand the smell of them," Ginny reddened as Bill continued, "She couldn't Apparate. She'd lose her lunch every single time. Forget about riding a broom. We finally figured it out." Bill turned to Hermione smiling his strange half smile.

"What was it Bill? Tell me. Was it horrid?" Hermione leaned on her desk, her face flushed, her brow dripping with sweat.

"Ginny dear, why don't you fill your friend in, after you hand her the trash bin. I've got to visit a dear friend. There's some interesting news I simply must share with him."

"Bill! Don't. Not yet. Please. I'm begging you. Not for me, for her." Ginny's embarrassment turned into fear, she grasped her brother's hands, pleading with him. "She doesn't know." Ginny hissed into his ear.

"Bill? What was it called?" Hermione asked, breathing deeply through her nose, ignoring the hushed conversation around her.

"Hmm?" Bill was involved in a heated silent conversation with his sister, finally acquiescing to her demands.

"Fleur's illness. Do you remember what it was called?" Bill glanced at Ginny, enjoying her squirm of shame.

"Victoire." He answered, leaving Hermione's office as quickly as he came.


	25. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: Uhm...I have been possessed by the spirit of...ok fine, I haven't. I own nothing. I'm not JK and now I'm sad. THANKS.**

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**AN: Ok bitches, this is the LAST chapter. don't cry. there's an epilogue. i love you guys *sniff***

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Chapter 24

Lucius Malfoy paced his room angrily. Sometimes he skipped and laughed, other times he stomped and raged. There didn't seem to be a big range of emotions for him anymore, if there ever was. He vacillated between anger and amusement so quickly; the Healers had stopped monitoring his moods. By order of the Wizengamot, Lucius Malfoy would never leave the Janus Thickey Ward. While it couldn't be proved his addled mental state was due to spell damage, there simply wasn't another option for his long-term care which suited his son just fine.

Draco Malfoy stood at the door, watching his father skip about through the glass window. He didn't want to go inside. He didn't want to see his father this way. He didn't want to see his father at all. He'd only come because his mother had begged him. Draco pushed open the door.

"Hello! I'm a wizard!" Lucius announced to his son, giggling and waving wildly.

"Hello, Father. Yes, I'm aware." Draco desperately tried to sound bored but he couldn't manage it. He was terrified.

"You're Draco. I know you. You're a naughty, naughty boy." Lucius over exaggerated the shaking of his head, sending his blonde hair flailing about his head.

"I've been told." Draco refused to move closer to this obviously insane person once known as Father. Lucius didn't mind in the least.

"Mother says you love a Mudblood. Abraxas would be MOST disappointed with youuuu." Lucius skipped around Draco, poking him with a bony, pointy finger.

"I could give a flying fu..."

"LANGUAGE!" Lucius interrupted; a shadow of his former self peaking through.

"Yes sir." Draco automatically replied, mentally kicking himself for caving.

"Why are you here?" Lucius sat suddenly though trying to look prim and proper in hospital robes was laughable.

"Mother suggested it. I've come to tell you, I'm leaving. I'm going away. I won't see you again." He felt relieved saying it aloud to someone other than himself. He couldn't bear it. Bill was right. He needed to get on with his life. He needed to rediscover how to live without Hermione Granger.

"Oh! A trip! Where are you going?! Can I come with you? I love a good holiday!" Lucius bounced in his seat like a toddler. With disgust, Draco Malfoy left the hospital room, feeling no better for having wasted precious moments of his time. Vowing never to return, Draco felt lighter as the relief of discarding his father coursed through him.

He met his mother for tea at Malfoy Manor, prepared to tell her what he had already told his maniacal father.

"Mother, I"

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Narcissa Malfoy sat stiffly on the garden chair, uncomfortable outside now that it was so cold and dreary. She only did it to appease her son.

"I have to. I can't sit here forever. Please, don't try to talk me out of it. I'm very glad your Muggle-born wizard remembered you. I'm terribly sorry Grandfather murdered him. Hermione Granger isn't him. I don't think..." His voice broke, but he carried on, "She's not coming back. I have to let go. If I keep on, I'll come undone and I'm already halfway there." Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn't want to let go of her. He wanted to keep her safe and love her. He wanted to carry around every single precious memory, but he knew it was killing him.

"I understand." Narcissa's eyes fluttered shut. She refused to shed tears in front of her son. She refused to beg him to stay. "When?" The word was shaky, but she remained strong. She had to.

"Tonight, I'm going to my house, to…take care of a few things and then I'll be off. I don't know when I'll return. If she...if she...comes by, will you, will you tell her..." Draco couldn't say it. His heart was broken into thousands of tiny shards stabbing him from the inside out. He wished they would hurry. The sooner they killed him the sooner he wouldn't have to struggle through every day simply to breathe.

"I'll tell her, Draco. I promise." As if to signify the finality of it all, raindrops started to fall. The sky turned a dark grey, black clouds rolling in, fat rain drops fell, soaking them instantly. Neither Malfoy ran. They stood and clasped hands, walking into Malfoy Manor together.

* * *

"Ginny? Ginny? Ginny! Stop ignoring me!" Hermione threw a shoe at her friend since it was the closest thing in proximity to her. Ginny was hit in the chest with it, throwing the shoe back at Hermione who ducked, making her stomach roll.

"What did Bill mean? Was he suggesting..." Hermione stopped. Her face went deathly pale. She started shaking her head slowly, her brown eyes wide in apprehension. "No, no no, he can't mean, not that. He's wrong. He's a man; they don't know anything anyway, right? It's impossible, isn't it? I haven't..." Ginny watched Hermione change colours and fret.

"Listen. It's a quick trip to St Mungo's. Then you'll know." Ginny skirted the underlying question quickly, picking up the discarded shoe.

"You know. You **know** and you're not telling me. Oh Gods, I have, haven't I?"

"Uhm, lots actually." Hermione's pallor continued to pale as she swayed upon her feet.

"With…with Malfoy. You're telling me I've…I've shagged…Draco Malfoy." Ginny threw Hermione's cloak over her arm, opening her office door.

"Yes, and you didn't seem to mind from what I've seen but that's neither here nor there. Come on then. She'll be back later." Ginny told the secretary whose name she never bothered to learn.

"Can we use the Floo? Apparition and I aren't great friends right now." Ginny closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose and nodded curtly. She knew exactly what was wrong with her friend, but there was nothing on Merlin's green earth that could make her bear that news.

* * *

"Bill! You're absolutely sopping! Quickly, come." Narcissa pushed aside her elderly house-elf, pulling Bill into the foyer. The water droplets pooled around his feet, his hair a proverbial river of rain water.

"Where is he? He's not at the cabin. Is he here?" Bill skipped the formalities, his self-imposed task branded into his constitution.

"Cabin? What cabin? He has a cabin?" Bill found his hands clenching Narcissa Malfoy's lapel a hairs breath away from shaking her sternly.

"Not the point. Yes. Is. He. Here?" Narcissa Malfoy lost her aristocratic composure, her chin trembling, blue eyes shining with unspent tears.

"He was, yes. He said he's leaving. He...can't wait for her anymore. It's killing him. Why are you looking for him? What's wrong?" Her voice wavered but she stubbornly raised her chin, unwilling to completely lose her composure.

"Leaving? Of course he'd choose NOW to listen to anything I've got to say. Bastard." Bill released Narcissa with a slight shove. His wet robes whipped around him while he stormed toward the drawing room.

"Is it her? Did she remember?" Narcissa followed him, curiosity getting the best of her.

"Her? HER? Hermione Granger. That's her name. Perhaps you should learn it." Narcissa's hand fluttered to her throat, terrified of the venom in Bill Weasley. He looked positively animalistic with rage, yet her haughty nature revealed itself.

"Why ever would I wish to do such a thing?" She sniffed, raising her eyebrows in derision to punctuate her point. She would never admit to Bill Weasley her begrudged affection for the Muggle-born witch in question. Narcissa wasn't willing to admit it to herself, let alone anyone else.

Bill convulsed as the waves of fury rolled through him. For a split second, Bill absolutely believed this would be the defining moment he altered between man and beast. His teeth bared, the tic in his cheek jumping, a throaty growl escaping his chest, he slammed Narcissa Malfoy into the glass paned door, leading to the garden.

"Never-mind your son loves her, as he's never loved ANYONE. Never-mind the war is OVER and your half blood Lord is DEAD AND GONE. Never-mind you're a vile, cold-hearted evil SHREW. Forget ALL of it. Why? Narcissa Malfoy demands to know WHY she should deign to utter the name Hermione Granger! Well, for no other reason than she carries your grandchild." With a final violent shove of anger, Bill released her, bursting through the glass panes into the torrential rain to soothe the fire in his veins.

She slumped to the floor, rain pelting her through broken panes. The realisation of Bill's truth was shaking her sentiments to their very core. The house-elves scurried to the darkest corners of Malfoy Manor as its Mistress hid her face in her hands, rocking as the keening of her soul filled the Manor.

* * *

A scant hour later, Ginny held Hermione's clammy hands, while they were sitting in the waiting area of St Mungos.

"Hermione Granger!" A tiny, wisp of a Mediwitch called out.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Ginny didn't want to go with her, but she knew she wouldn't be a very good friend if she didn't offer.

"No." Hermione was surprisingly calm. She walked into the office, took a seat and waited.

"Ginny Potter?" Another tiny Mediwitch called from the round desk near the door. Ginny frowned, wondering how anyone knew she was there.

"Yes?" The pert blonde handed Ginny an envelope. Ginny tore it open, scanning the scant words on the parchment. "Do you have an owl?" The Mediwitch rolled her eyes and pointed. Ginny hurried over to the owl kiosk, scribbled a few words on the parchment and sent it off.

"Bollocks." Ginny spat the word, causing a small group of children to back away from her pointing. She rolled her eyes, intent on returning to her seat when Hermione exited the office. Hermione walked straight into Ginny, pinning her arms.

"Ginny, I...I'm...what am I going to do?" Hermione didn't cry. She didn't sob. She didn't much of anything, except squeeze Ginny Potter to the point of death.

"Can't. Breathe." Hermione loosened her grip immediately. "Ok. First, I'm going to enjoy some oxygen. Then, you're going to tell Draco Malfoy. Right now. Shut up. He's leaving."

"Leaving? Where is he going? He can't just leave!" Hysteria flooded out of Hermione's mouth.

"Yes he can! You haven't been to see him or owled him or anything in weeks and weeks! Did you really think he was going to sit around waiting for you forever? That's very selfish of you. I know you're all broken and whatnot and we've all been patient, but you're not even trying anymore. So you get yourself over to Malfoy Manor right now before it's too late!" Ginny shoved Hermione toward the doors, spinning in the opposite direction, before she said things she might regret.

Hermione Granger stood there for a moment in the rain, feeling it pelting her skin, but it didn't feel cold. She realised, she didn't feel much of anything. The only time she felt alive was in those few moments she closed her eyes and drifted through memories she didn't remember making.

"Children. A child. Me? I always want..." She stopped suddenly, gasping in wonder as images were flitting across her eyes. She closed them, thinking it was just a bout of dizziness, but they intensified. In the orchard, behind The Burrow, she could smell the trees even knowing she stood on the walk in front of St Mungos.

_"I think I'd like to have children."__  
__"Right now? Seems a bit vulgar."__  
__"What if it happened? What would happen to us? We're not exactly careful."__  
__"Are you saying..."__  
__"No. No Malfoy."__  
__"Ohh I suppose I'd definitely have to marry you. Otherwise I'd find myself on the wrong end of a Bat Bogey Hex directly to my man bits. Never mind the curses of Potter and Mrs Weasley. So yes. I'd definitely have to marry you."__  
__"But. Do you love me?"__  
__"Aw Granger. You...you know how I feel."__  
_  
Hermione felt as if she had been punched in the gut. Every moment, every second, every thought and every feeling that went with them surged through her body. Passersby stopped to ask if she was alright, she could only nod and grunt. It wasn't painful per se, but it didn't exactly feel good either. Ginny turned, expecting Hermione to be miles in the opposite direction, but she wasn't. She was hunched over, gasping. Ginny whisked out of St Mungos in a huff.

"Merlin! Hermione! What's wrong?" Ginny was fully prepared to drag Hermione back inside for a full workup when it stopped. Hermione's mind was clear for the first time in weeks and weeks. Her heart was aching with an emptiness and a longing for _him_.

"Where is he?" Hermione shook Ginny's shoulders so hard, Ginny's head snapped back and forth as if she were a doll.

"Who?" It was difficult to think when one's head was independently dancing upon one's shoulders.

"Malfoy of course! Where is he? I need him!" Hermione's desperation choked her with emotion. Her fingers dug into Ginny's shoulders, begging her friend for answers.

"You remember!" Ginny would have danced if Hermione would stop shaking her. "He's leaving. Bill owled me. You don't have much time." Hermione released her best friend and started to run. She ran through the rain feeling the cold drops land on her skin, until she hit the corner and Disapparated.

"Oh she's going to pay for that. I hope she lands outside." Ginny shuddered, before scurrying off. She had happy news to share...with everyone.

* * *

Hermione arrived on the steps of Malfoy Manor. It was the first place she met Narcissa Malfoy without derision. Immediately she decorated the Malfoy topiaries, which is exactly how Narcissa found her.

"Ms. Granger? Hermione, are you ill?" With a final heave and a wipe of her mouth with her sleeve, Hermione turned around with a fire in her eyes.

"Where is he?" Narcissa stepped away from the angry brunette witch, with instant realisation.

"Oh Merlin. You've remembered! You've got to hurry! He's leaving! He went home. Bill says there's a cabin." Hermione felt her stomach roll again.

"I'm going to be sick." Hermione spun away from Narcissa, redecorating the topiaries. "Of course I have to Apparate. Ugh. I'm going to kill him." Narcissa blinked and Hermione was gone with a pop. Moments later, more pops alerted Narcissa to visitors.

Molly, Arthur, Bill, Harry, Ginny, George, carrying little James and yes, even Ron ran up the steps to Malfoy Manor.

"Are they here? Did you see?" A babble of overlapping voices greeted her. Narcissa Malfoy, stood in the rain, opened her arms, threw back her head and laughed. It was the dawning of a new age.

* * *

Hermione was soaked when she arrived in the empty field. She looked at the cabin, remembering the way it always smelled of him, even when he wasn't there. She saw a dim light flickering in an upstairs window. She had hope, perhaps she wasn't too late.

"MALFOY!" Hermione screamed into the rain. Rivulets of water were running down her face, soaking her hair, chilling her to the bone. Over and over she screamed for him. She saw his pale face in the window, staring down at her. She saw him again in the kitchen window, still staring at her with absolute amazement. Finally, he stood in the doorway.

"Malfoy. Don't make me come up there, you bastard." That was the moment the Apparating caught up to her. That was the moment she vomited all over her own shoes. That was the moment her knees gave out as she watched the contents of her stomach litter the tall grass.

Draco Malfoy thought he was dreaming again. He thought he heard a woman screaming his name in a thunderstorm, but that couldn't be right. Only one woman knew the exact location of his cabin and she didn't even remember him. As he threw random articles of clothing into a leather bag, he listened to the litany, convinced it was all in his mind, until he looked out the window.

"Granger?" He whispered to himself, dashing down the stairs. "If I look out the window and she's still there, I'll open the door." He snuck a quick look out the small kitchen window and there she was, screaming his name.

"If I open the door and she's still there, I'll go to her." It was the only way he could rationalise it. Otherwise he'd commit himself to St Mungos and never leave. He desperately wanted to leave. He'd do almost anything to escape the torment of his moments, days, weeks, and months spent with her.

He opened the door and Hermione Granger was still there, until she was on her knees voiding the contents of her stomach. For a moment he couldn't tear his eyes from her, yet he was unable to fathom this reality. His silver eyes scrunched shut to simply peel open and she was still there.  
Finally, he ran to her, scooped her up, and ran back inside his cabin. He set her on her feet, threw an old blanket over her shoulders, prepared to drag her in front of the now roaring fireplace.

"Can't." She said, heading for the sink. "Have to brush my teeth." Hermione's teeth chattered, but she wasn't going anywhere until the rancid taste was scoured from her mouth.

"Use a spell, Granger! Let's go." Draco wanted to soak up every moment of this mirage before it was gone.

"Can't. Parents would kill me. Dentists." Hermione shoved some sort of brush with little white bristles on it into her mouth and scrubbed. When she was finished, she spat into the sink, prepared to face him.

Draco Malfoy held his breath the moment his steely grey eyes met her warm brown ones. He saw her. The woman she was in the before. The cloud of gloom which had settled over him, started to clear as the warmth began to return to his extremities. He saw the woman he loved looking back. These eyes were warm and welcoming and filled with...love. He wanted to gather her into his arms, never let her go. Draco stepped toward her, but she retreated, smiling nervously before speaking. Hermione took a deep breath, deciding to take the plunge.

"I think I'd like to have children." She said. He studied her for a moment, confused. The memory came to him quickly, a half smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

"Really? Now? It's a bit vulgar don't you think?" He casually leaned in the doorway, watching her slink toward him slowly.

"What if it happened though? We're not careful. Not at all." She was barely a foot away from him now, if he stretched out his fingertips, he could snatch her right into his arms, wet or not.

"Are you saying?" Draco watched her eyes sparkle, a grin playing about her lips.

"Yes. Yes, Malfoy, I am." He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He just wanted to hold her.

"Well, I'll definitely have to marry you then." Hermione's hands were on his chest.

"But...do you love me?" She rubbed her head on his chin.

"Desperately."


	26. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: Welcome to the final disclaimer of this particular fic. I'm still not JK. I still don't own Harry Potter but I did so enjoy playing with her toys.**

* * *

**Author's Note: And here we are...thank you for taking this journey with me. I appreciate every single one of you. I'm sad it's over...but we'll move on to greener pastures and other stories and perhaps you'll take that journey with me as well. *kisses***

* * *

Epilogue

"Again?" Hermione Granger giggled into Draco Malfoy's shoulder.

"All day. Every day. Forever. Until we're dead. Maybe even after." Draco nibbled her earlobe.

"That's disgusting!" Hermione smacked him lightly, laughing. His hand wandered down her body, stopping on the swollen mound of her abdomen. Hermione watched his face as it filled with wonder. She was pinned beneath him, her curly golden brown hair spread out, caught under his elbows, but she wasn't complaining.

"When are you going to marry me?" Hermione was used to the question. Draco had asked it every day for six months. She never gave him a definitive answer; she'd smile and distract him if truth be told. He didn't mind the distraction, but he found himself apprehensive with her silent refusal. He rested his head on her chest, his mouth resting against his child's place of sleep.

"Your mother doesn't love me. Isn't that terrible?" The sleeping child awoke, kicking his father in the face. "Terrible manners you have." Draco smiled lazily, watching Hermione's stomach roll about.

"Malfoy." He ignored her, intent on witnessing somersaults.

"See? She won't even say my name." Hermione clenched her tiny hands into fists, fuming silently at the ceiling of their cabin.

"Draco Malfoy!"

"Now I'm in trouble." He patted her stomach before propping himself up on an elbow, kissing her chin.

"I can't. You know I bloody well can't!" Tears of frustration seeped from her soft brown eyes. Draco knew she was having one of her over emotional moments laced with a bit of over thinking, but he had grown used to such things.

"Tell me." He slid his arm behind her head, brushed stubborn curls from her forehead while allowing his child to thump beneath his palm. Hermione gritted her teeth, shaking her head violently from side to side, causing her tears to land on the pillow. He spoke softly again, repeating the words.

"You're Draco Malfoy..."

"Yes, I'm aware of who I am." He laughed lightly, planting a kiss on her brow.

"I'm Hermione Granger..."

"Yes, now that we've established who everyone is, what does it have to do with you marrying me?" Hermione gasped as his blonde hair brushed against her face, his mouth intent on a rosy peak.

"Stop distracting me!" She groaned, pulling his silky strands.

"No. I won't. You're intent on distracting me. Not that I'm complaining. In fact, I quite enjoy it. I should ask you to marry me every day. Oh yes that's right. I have." Hermione felt the carefully formulated arguments, stored safely in her overworked brain, slipping away.

"I'll be a Malfoy!" She wept, her resolve dissolving. Draco's head snapped up. Brushing away her tears, he smiled, deciding to try something new.

"Hermione. You'll always be Granger to me." She gasped, clutching his face in her hands.

"Say it again." He whispered her name against her lips.

"Does this mean you'll marry me?" Draco murmured into the nape of her neck.

"But. She'll be in Slytherin!" Hermione's waterworks resumed with shaking sobs.

"It's a girl then? We're having a girl?" Draco found himself distracted by her pronoun usage.

"Yes. No. I don't know." She wailed with fists in her eyes.

"Love, I solemnly swear, I'll love her even if she's a Gryffindor." Draco stifled a snicker. "Uhm, as well, even if you don't marry me, she's part mine. She could wind up in Slytherin regardless." Hermione's eyes flew open, she struggled to sit up, but he held her firmly in place.

"Oh! I didn't think of that. Why didn't I think of that? I think of everything!" Hermione's bottom lip trembled.

"You're a stubborn minx. Marry me." Draco Malfoy was just as stubborn as Hermione Granger. She saw the steely glint of determination and knew she would succumb. She nodded slowly, a slow smile spreading, a twinkle in her eyes and kissed him.

"Do you love me?" Draco pressed the question against her lips.

"Desperately."

* * *

_One Year Later_

It was a small ceremony. The families of the betrothed beamed, despite their reservations. Molly Weasley fussed over the guests, her dress robes in a gorgeous shade of lavender.

"Hurry now! We haven't much time!" Arthur valiantly tried to calm his wife, but she would have none of it. "Where's Ron? Go and fetch him! Harry, take the baby. Hermione your dress! You've got spittle on your dress!" Bill threw his hands into the air laughing.

"Fleur, take James, Victoire and Dominque to George. He'll entertain them. Harry, carry on with Albus, Ginny needs to attend Hermione. Draco…where is Draco? Where is Hermione? Mum, take the baby. I'll hunt them down. Ron, go do your pacing over there. Dad, stop staring at them. They're going to hex you." Bill doled out the orders. For a moment, they silently rebelled. They caught sight of the tic in his cheek and bustled about, exactly as they were told.

"Harry?" Ron nervously tapped his best friend's shoulder. Harry chuckled. His friend looked a bit green.

"Scorpius is a right terrible name, mate."

"Ron. Don't you think you've got other things to worry 'bout? Rather than Mione and Malfoy's kid?" Ron gulped almost guiltily.

"Well yeah, but if I think about it, I'm liable to lose my lunch and I'd hate to do that. He's a cute kid, but Scorpius? Really?" Harry patted Ron's back lightly.

"Let it go mate, let it go."

"You can't even say it. And you named your kid Albus. What were you thinking honestly? I mean sure, he was a great Headmaster and whatnot, but Albus? Albus Severus, no less? I mean, could have considered Sirius. Or Ron. Ronald's a good name."

"Ron." Harry raised his eyebrows in warning.

"But..."

"Ron. It's your wedding day." Harry cast a casual glance toward Ron's impending in-laws. The Greegrasses looked less than thrilled, but at least they weren't hexing anyone. That was something. It was progress.

Hermione squealed in surprise when her husband dragged her into a tiny cottage across the pond from Malfoy Manor. He said nothing, unbuttoning her robes, divesting of her clothing with hast.

"We can't! Not here! Not now." Draco pulled the pins from his wife's hair, watching it cascade across her shoulders, down her back.

"Yes. Here. Now. Can't wait. Got to." Picking her up, he backed her into the desk behind them. The logical side of Hermione wished to protest, but she found herself caught up in the moment, her thoughts becoming muddled. He drew her bent knee around his waist, pressing her back.

"The ceremony..." She breathed, reveling in the sensation of his teeth running down her neck.  
"Bollocks on it." She gasped, squirming, her body writhing beneath him. He let his hands roam the way they were apt to do where Hermione was concerned. He watched her face contract as he slipped between her folds. He loved to watch her swollen lips part, tiny gasps emitting between them. He captured a taut peak between his teeth, drawing back mistaking her groan for pain.

"More." Draco easily complied, a sense of contentment settling with him. As much as Hermione Granger Malfoy drove him to the edges of sanity, he knew, he wouldn't trade it for anything. Quickly, he discarded his clothing, half climbing onto the mahogany piece easily.

"Someone's calling us." A dreamy sort of expression on Hermione's face, the words escaping in a whisper.

"Don't. Care." Draco Malfoy punctuated his point by thrusting into his wife. In that moment, Hermione didn't care either.

"THAT'S IT!" Bill Weasley hollered at them from outside the cottage. "WE'RE NO LONGER FRIENDS. BASTARDS. THE LOT OF YOU!"

"Bill. Get out." Draco shifted slightly, covering his wife's body from Bill's outrage.

"I can't unsee this! I'm scarred! For life!" He sputtered, his feet frozen to the spot.

"We know, Bill. Terrible thing. Get out." Draco kissed his wife tenderly. Hermione broke their kiss, flashing eyes peaking over her husband's shoulder.

"William Weasley! GET OUT!" Hermione shrieked. Bill blinked rapidly, backing quickly out of the cottage. "SHUT THE DOOR!" He complied, determined to find some obscure bit of magic for bleaching eyeballs.

Hermione and Draco Malfoy dressed quickly, laughing.

"We're late. Where's my wand?" Hermione scuttled about the cottage, finding a discarded shoe.

"Scorpius is having a right fit I bet." Draco handed her the wand in question. "We'll have to Apparate to the ceremony if we expect to catch any of it."

"Whose fault is that?!" Hermione shrieked arranging her robes over her pale green dress.

"You enjoyed it as much as I did." Draco couldn't help himself. He doubled over in peals of laughter remembering their interruption. "Bill hates us."

"I don't care. Let's go!" Holding hands, they Disapparated.

Ron Weasley stood at the end of the aisle, swallowing nervously. Harry stood beside him, passing Albus to his mother. Ginny smiled grandly, watching Scorpius sit in Molly Weasley's lap. The guests stood in preparation for the bride.

Hermione and Draco Malfoy Apparated directly in front of the bride. There was a collective gasp. Ron was craning his neck, trying to get a glimpse of his bride when Hermione Granger Malfoy lost the contents of her stomach directly on Draco Malfoy's feet. The silence was deafening, until it was broken by a high pitched peal of laughter.

"Here we go again." Ginny Potter declared with a satisfied nod.

* * *

_(Four Years Later)_

"Cassiopeia Rose Malfoy!" Hermione called for her daughter, searching the rooms of Malfoy Manor.

"I'm in twouble." Cassie Malfoy hid in her father's study, under his desk, looking up at him with her mother's eyes.

"What did you do?" Draco crouched in front of his three year old daughter, brushing her golden blonde curls from her forehead.

"I kicked Una Hawwy." Draco suppressed the desire to guffaw. He nodded solemnly.

"Why did you do that?" He spied his wife in the doorway, fuming. He held up his hand, pointing to the underside of his desk. Hermione crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently.

"He said, he said Peeus is gonna be in Gwiffendoor cuz he's bwave." Cassie pouted, her chubby cheeks scrunched in toddler anger.

"And I told you Scorpius will go wherever he's sorted. Your mum was in Gryffindor."

"Yeah but, Nana says Swifferin is da best. And mummy says we hafta be best, so no Gwiffendoor." Cassie's curls bounced with her vehement nod. Hermione laughed behind her hand, rolled her eyes and left them to their own devices.

"Nana isn't always right."

"She snot?" Draco couldn't contain himself any longer, her incredulous expression was doing him in.

"No. She's not." He said scooping the toddler into his arms. "But I'll tell you a secret." He moved her curls exposing her ear, "Sometimes, I wish to kick Uncle Harry too. So thank you. Now, go find your mum." Cassie smiled, her chubby arms nearly strangling her father with her emphatic embrace. He watched her scurry from the room, still shaking his head.

"Malfoy. You've got to dress. The others will be here soon." Hermione stuck her head in his study a few moments later.

"Is this what my life is to be? Surrounded by Weasleys and Potters?" Draco mocked his wife as he was so fond of doing.

"Yes." It wasn't even a question requiring an answer as far as she was concerned. Harry, Ginny, and Ron would always be family.

"It's ghastly. Make it stop." Draco pulled his wife into his arms, still reveling in her scent. Hermione kicked the study door shut, a gleam in her eye.

"Bill. Go find Draco and Hermione would you? Do they even know we're here?" Ron waved away his eldest brother.

"Nope. Not doing it. Can't make me." Bill Weasley hid behind his wife, kissing her cheek.

"Scorpius. Where's your mum and dad? Why not go have a gander?" Bill shushed the responsibly onto the small boy. It never ceased to amaze him to see Hermione Granger's eyes looking back at him from the pale blonde.

"Otay Uncle Bill!" He scampered off his silky blonde hair flying. A few moments later he returned. He ran right into Bill, fists flying. Scorpius kicked, punched and cried tears of frustration.

"Hey. Hey. Calm down! What's wrong?" Bill squatted, receiving a punch on the cheek in return.

"You mean Uncle Bill! Mean!" Bill embraced the youngster, shrugging at Harry and Ginny.

"What happened? Did you get lost? It's a big house."

"No! I knows where I live now! I finded mummy and daddy and there were noises and mummy sounded like she got hurted. I opened dat door and they had no clothes on! And daddy was on top of mummy and..." Scorpius dissolved into tears. Bill sat on the floor, pulling the angry child into his lap, tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks.

"I understand completely Scorpius. Believe me. I understand."

Harry perused the conservatory of Malfoy Manor, wondering how it turned out this way. He never expected to find himself on civil terms with Draco Malfoy. He never expected his best friend to marry anyone other than Ron. Yet, if he'd learned anything over the years, nothing ever goes exactly the way you think they will. And perhaps, love does conquer all.

"Oi! Malfoy!" Ron shouted across the room.

"What?!" Hermione and Draco shouted back, surprising each other.

"Can we go now eh?" Astoria rubbed her husband's arm, calming him. He kissed her quickly, giving her rounded stomach a pat.

"Hermione. I've got to talk to you." Ginny hissed, her eyes nervously darting about.

"Oh. I've missed you! Come with me. We'll chat a bit after." The unlikely group of witches and wizards walked down the long path of Malfoy Manor until they were safely outside the wards.

"I can't believe we're going to Hogwarts. I honestly thought the next time would be when we sent our children off." Hermione squealed to Ginny, hugging her arm.

"Minister Shacklebolt decided Victory Day should be celebrated in a way Professor Dumbledore would approve." Ginny squeezed her friend tightly.

"After some subtle convincing." Harry interjected with a snicker.

"Subtle? You threatened to hex his bollocks!" Ron laughed.

"Oi, no I didn't. I threatened to set Ginny on him."

"Same thing." Ron mumbled.

"I still maintain you should have let me hex him. He deserved it. Join my secret task force of shite so I can look bloody fabulous to a bunch of old stodgy wizards and keep my job." Ginny snorted as they traipsed through the trees.

"Regardless, it worked out alright. Lucius is safely ensconced in St. Mungos for the rest of eternity, the Minister for Magic apologized to all of us and Victory Day is exactly what it was always supposed to be." Harry smiled brightly.

"Yes, but I didn't get to hex him."

"You can't have everything, love."

"Again Daddy! Again!" Cassie Malfoy shouted, enjoying her first Side-Along Apparition. Harry found himself laughing, discovering he was quite fond of the toddler.

Ron and Astoria had started walking towards Hogwarts, heads close together in private conversation. Bill swung Fleur's hand while their young children ran in circles around them. Ginny arrived and a few seconds later Hermione did as well.

"Hermione."

"Ginny." They spoke in unison. Harry and Draco strolled toward their wives, quickening their pace when they spotted their pallor. Hermione and Ginny spun away from each other, rushing off the dirt road, losing their meager mid-day meal.

Harry and Draco sighed, grudgingly looking at each other. As far as they had come, they would never truly be friends.

"Is yours?" Draco pointedly asked Harry.

"Yeah. Yours?" Draco sighed, rolling his eyes to the sky.

"Definitely."

"We need a drink." Draco didn't answer, simply walked through the doors of Hog's Head the moment Hermione and Ginny shouted in glee.

Later that evening, Albus Dumbledore's portrait observed Draco and Hermione Malfoy wander throughout the Great Hall with twinkling blue eyes. He saw the stolen glances, minute caresses and yes, the kisses. He smiled broadly, his weathered hands coming together in soft applause.

"Well done. Well done indeed."

Fin.


End file.
